


The Point's To Never Disappoint

by akire_yta



Category: Skippy - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Slavery, Space AU, content warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Carden, captain of the space freighter <i>Santi</i>, wins a trained slave in a poker game completely by accident. That slave is Kevin. You can guess the rest.</p><p>(co-authored with starflowers, who doesn't seem to have an AO3 account)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> nother comment!fic gone wild /o\ Title from Marianas Trench's 'Perfect.'  
> Rating and Warnings: PG-16 for language and a brief sex scene :D. Slavery fic, so, y'know. (brief and non-detailed mentions of past physical and sexual abuse within the slavery context)

Mike barely remembered much about the poker game, just that the cards were hot and the beer was cold. He smirked as his opponent snapped his fingers. "All in," he growled, and the skinny, curly-haired kid who was with him tossed a chit onto the pot.

Mike didn't pay it much attention as he scooped his winnings into his pocket and shuffled back to his ship to sleep it off.

The next thing he knew, it was morning, and he was prying open gummy eyes. The kid was kneeling in the centre of his cabin. Mike yelped, flailing and almost falling out of bed in surprised. "Good morning, master," the kid murmured softly.

Mike pulled his blanket more securely onto his lap and stared. "What the...?" he spluttered.

The kid looked up at him demurely through long, dark lashes. "If you tell me what you prefer for breakfast, I can have it prepared and ready for when you wake," he said softly, almost apologetically.

Mike gaped, still trying to get his brain up to speed. All he could think about was that the gridwork lattice of the decking plates must be like hell on the kid's knees. "Coffee," he muttered automatically. "I usually just have black coffee, but..."

"Yes, sir," the kid murmured, brightening slightly as he scrambled to his feet.

Mike's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the heavy black leather collar fastened around the kid's pale throat, the snap ring for the lead glinting brightly in the low light. "You're a slave," he gasped.

The kid stopped at the hatch, bowed gracefully, and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm your slave. You won me last night. I will be back directly with the coffee, master."

Mike blinked, trying to remember. Surely he'd have noticed if someone had bet a _person_ , right?

Mike was no less coherent when the kid returned a few minutes later, carefully carrying a huge mug of steaming coffee. He took it gratefully, grunted thanks, took a huge gulp, and hoped it would clear his head.

The boy just watched, eyes fixed to Mike's face, and when Mike looked up at him, he quickly lowered his lashes, ducking his head a bit. "Is it satisfactory?" he asked.

"Sure. Uh, yeah." Mike set it carefully aside and got up, hugging his blanket to his hips. "I, uhm, I'm kind of naked," he said.

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed. He didn't move.

"No, see, I need to get dressed." Mike gestured vaguely with one hand.

"I--I'm sorry, sir, I would have prepared your clothing, I just wasn't sure where-"

Mike huffed, frustrated, and said, "No. Can you just-- I can get dressed. Alone. In fact, I'd prefer it. Just. Go, okay?"

The boy looked something like _hurt_ , just for a brief second, and then he was nodding, murmuring something, and backing from the room.

"Fuck," Mike mumbled, hurrying to get dressed. William was going to _kill_ him.

Mike had his second heart attack of the day when he staggered out of his cabin to find the boy sitting on his haunches outside his door. "What the!" Mike startled, leaping back.

The boy immediate dropped forward, onto his knees, head boys, hands gently folded in the small of his back, a perfect submissive posture.

Mike leaned against a bulkhead until his breathing was back under his control. The boy didn't so much as twitch. "Stand up," he said, not unkindly.

The boy smoothly shifted upright without moving his hands or head.

"Do you have a name, boy?" Mike asked, massaging his throbbing temple.

"Um. Kevin, sir. My name is Kevin."

Of course it was. Mike glanced around, but it seemed they were the only two up and about on the _Santi_ so far. "Ok, well, listen Kevin. I need to be way more sober than I am to deal with this, so no offense kid, but why don't you go back to wherever you spent the night so you won't be underfoot, and I'll deal with this once I've seen to the ship." He was thinking maybe Kevin could be put off on one of the farming settlements they often stopped at, put to honest work in the open air.

The kid blinked and cowered without moving a muscle, and Mike stopped. Whatever was in this kids past, it meant that being dealt with had bad connotations. But before Mike could clarify his meaning, the kid was gracefully returning to his knees, toes against the wall, head bowed. It took Mike a second to figure it out. "You spent the night _outside my room_?"

Kevin bobbed his head. "If you have somewhere else you'd prefer me to be while you sleep?" he said softly.

Mike growled under his breath and cursed the fucker who put a person in a poker pot. "Come on," he said, leaning over to grab Kevin's arm and haul him to his feet. Kevin came easily, a little too used to being dragged for Mike's liking. He let go in a hurry. "We sometimes take passengers, but there's none right now, so you can have on of their berths, get some proper sleep in a bed."

Mike left Kevin standing, looking alone and cold, in the middle of one of the tiny guest berths, and went to yell his crew from their bunks.

Mike decided that the best course of action not to mention the slave that had somehow gotten aboard their ship to the rest of the crew, at least until after he'd had a bit more coffee. Then he kind of forgot about it. There were plenty of things that needed his attention, ship-related things that didn't have anything to do with the boy in the passenger berth.

It wasn't until the comm beeped and Sisky said, "Captain, issue in the engine room, hurry the fuck up, thanks," that Mike left the bridge at all, leaving William to navigate, bickering with Michael over the best route to their destination.

When he got to the engine room, he found Sisky covered in grease and oil, as usual, only this time he was sulking, arms crossed across his chest, and glaring at the boy--Kevin, who was looking pale and terrified, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Butcher found him," Sisky said. "Stowaway. He was gonna keep him in the kitchen since you never go in there, and feed him and stuff, but I told him a stowaway slave isn't a puppy."

Mike blinked and rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Fuck. He's not a stowaway."

Sisky's eyes widened. "Sir. No disrespect intended or anything, but Bill's gonna kill you if you bought a slave."

Kevin flinched and said quietly, "I wasn't going to steal, sir, I swear. I didn't mean to fall asleep, and when I woke up and realized how long had passed, I only meant to find you and--"

"Kevin," Mike snapped, and Kevin flinched.

"I'm sorry, master," he said, ducking even lower. The thin, loose shirt he wore slipped a bit and Mike could see criss crossed scars on his back and he felt a bit sick.

"C'mon," he said grimly. "I'm going to have to introduce you to the rest of the crew."

Mike found himself moving to stand possessively in front of Kevin as the crew gathered and stared at him like he was a zoo exhibit.

Well, most of the crew. William was glaring daggers at Mike, arms crossed. "I didn't buy him," Mike protested again. "I didn't realize it was an ownership chit, honestly."

William wasn't letting up an inch, but he wormed his way gracefully over to Kevin and slung his arm protectively over Kevin's skinny little shoulders. "Don't mind Mike, sweetheart," he cooed. "We'll protect you from him."

Kevin's eyes flashed, a brief note of worry that wasn't there before, and Mike growled and tried to resist the urge to chew William out there and then - not only was it likely to have no effect, but it would probably make Kevin even more scared and skittish than he already was.

"He can do whatever he likes with me," Kevin said, after a brief, worried pause that went on about half a second too long.

Mike swallowed back the urge to growl and tell him to stop being stupid, and William just looked more furious.

"Look," Mike said. "There has been a misunderstanding, okay? It's fine. We'll just. Leave him somewhere."

Kevin's eyes widened now and he quickly ducked his head, looking subservient again. "My former master sent along the paperwork," he said, voice shaking a little. "If you wish to liquidate me for my value, it should not be a problem."

Mike blinked. William hissed. The Butcher looked at Mike like he'd killed a puppy. "Michael," he said, shaking his head, eyes wide. "You can't sell him!"

"I'm not going to-- for fuck's sake," Mike snapped, losing his temper.

Kevin knees hit the decking a moment later, shaking, hands tucked behind him, leaving his back and shoulders open to receive a blow. "I'm sorry if I have somehow displeased you, that I'm not what you wanted, if you'll only tell me how I am to please you, I'll-- I can do better, sir, I promise."

His crew moved as one, swarming over Kevin, pulling him upright. William pulled Kevin over into his side, cuddling him like a doll. "No one is selling, noone is doing anything to you, sweetheart," he said sweetly, eyes promising death.

Mike was captain, he knew how to delegate. "Fine, whatever. We're a week out from our next port anyway. You," he said, pointing at William. "Find him something to do; something that doesn't involve..." he waved his hands, taking in the whole 'slave' thing. "The rest of you, get back to work."

Mike stalked out of the mess and into his quarters, slamming the door shut behind him. He found his jacket from yesterday and pawed through the pockets until he found the chit.

It was time he read the fine print.

 

 

 

After a few attempts to find him something to do, William finally left Kevin sitting in the galley under the Butcher's careful watch, mending the crew's torn clothing. Kevin's fingers were trembling too much to thread the needle very well, though, and it was taking too long. He was growing more and more frightened because William would come back and the mending wouldn't be done and it was a _simple_ task, it shouldn't be taking this long.

He didn't want his new master to lose his temper again.

Finally, The Butcher (Kevin didn't want to imagine why he was called the Butcher!) came over, took the needle, and threaded it for him, handing it back silently. He straddled the bench across the table from Kevin and watched for a moment, and Kevin struggled to keep his eyes down. He was _good_ at being a slave, but generally, he knew what was expected of him and what his duties were and how to make sure he didn't make anybody angry. He didn't know how to do any of that here.

Kevin just kept sewing and finally, the Butcher made a soft noise and went back to work in the kitchen.

Kevin's stomach grumbled and he flinched, glad no one could hear it. Once he got started, the mending went really quickly, and thankfully, he had finished just as William came back to check on him. "Huh," William said, with a smile that Kevin carefully didn't respond to. "Okay. Let's see you finish this task that quickly."

Kevin shone everyone's boots, sorted out Sisky's trunk of disguises, organized four back closets, washed all the laundry that had accumulated in the months since they'd been at port for longer than a few days, and he'd even washed all the windows in the viewing area. He scrubbed the galley floor and all the tables as well. He worked quickly, desperate to make a good impression. William seemed quiet by the time Kevin started to tire, and he worried that he hadn't done enough. He stood up carefully when William appeared again, about to ask if there was anything more, but the sudden movement made him lightheaded and he gasped, startled.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten and the hunger was startlingly violent. Kevin made a faint, distressed sound that would have gotten him slapped in his former home, and toppled bonelessly to the ground. The last thing he heard before he passed out entirely was the Butcher saying, "Shit, Mike's gonna _kill_ you."

 

 

 

 

Kevin blinked awake, just managing to swallow a whimper when Mike's face loomed into view. Kevin tried to sit up, but Mike's calloused hands pushed him back down, and Kevin obeyed silently.

Mike looked at him, studying his features, and normally Kevin would bow his head, maybe even adopt the basic waiting posture like he had been taught, but he was flat on his back in - he sniffed, wincing slightly at the stale antiseptic smell - what he would guess was the ship's infirmary, and he didn't want to move just in case that angered his new master again.

His new owner was incredibly hard to read.

Finally, his new master sighed, reaching out almost unconsciously to brush Kevin's hair off his face. "Okay, I read the chit. There was a lot in there about how I could use you, sell you, trade you. But very little about what rights you had in the arrangement."

"I'm a slave," Kevin said before he could stop himself.

But his master just chuckled. "My ship, my rules. And here they are. You will do chores, yes, but you will also eat with us at mealtimes, and the bunk I gave you this morning is yours, you will sleep there. You will tell someone if you are feeling hungry, sick or tired. If anyone gives you grief, though fuck knows they prefer to save that for me, you tell me and I'll deal with them." He scrubbed his hands through his hair. "You will not do that stupid fucking posture thing, you know, the one with the kneeling and the hands behind your back and the looking down. And you'll take that fucking collar off." His master reached for it, hooking his finger through the D-ring.

Kevin couldn't stifle the whimper this time. His collar! He was proud of his collar, the black and silver announcing to all that he was trained from childhood, not some stupid idiot who had to sell themselves because it was all he had left. Kevin was skilled in what he did, it was the one thing in the universe that was his, that he was proud of. He thought no-one could take that away, but his new master obviously wanted to own him more thoroughly than even the ones who had whipped him.

His owner had frozen. "Kevin?" he asked softly. Kevin hesitated, and he tsked under his breath. "Also, on this ship, we answer direct questions from the Captain. Tell me."

Kevin closed his eyes, like actually saying anything that would explain his negative reaction to his master's wishes might be easier without being able to see. "Have I done something so bad that it's the only way you can think to punish me, taking that from me? I don't understand." When he opened again, they were shining with tears. "Sir, I can't please you when I am not told how best to do so, and I just..." He touched the collar with his fingertips and looked up at his master helplessly.

His master blinked, looking lost. "Wait, you want to be collared?"

Kevin nodded, unsure whether speaking would make it worse or not. But he had said, to answer all his questions. "It's mine. It's my only thing that is all mine."

His master froze, then seemed to soften. "Okay. That's fucked up, but okay. You can keep your collar, but," he added sharply. "Only if you want to, and only for as long as you want to. That is your decision alone. Do you understand?"

Kevin nodded.

His master stepped back, glancing around like he was unsure whether he could look at Kevin. "Are you hungry?" Kevin's stomach growled, and Kevin grimaced at the unbidden noise. But the captain just laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on, chow should be up by now." He extended his hand to help Kevin down.

Kevin took his hand, as was proper. He was a good slave, it was right that his master wanted to show him off.

 

 

Mike was kind of fucked, and he was fully aware of it as he led Kevin to the galley. It didn't help that he kept getting wounded looks from his crew, like this was his fault, or that Kevin seemed disappointed in his slave-owning-abilities. He glanced at Kevin as they walked, frowned, and said, "You don't have anything decent to wear, do you?"

Kevin said calmly, "I wear whatever you'd like me to wear. My old master liked me to dress like this because--"

"No," Mike interupted, voice sharp. Kevin flinched a tiny bit and Mike felt like a horrible person. Again. "No," he said again. "You wear whatever you want to wear. We'll find you something else. Do you know where you'd like to go?"

"Go?" Kevin echoed uncertainly.

"Yeah. Like, do you have a home? Family? Particularly favourite part of the galaxy?"

Kevin just looked at him for a moment, and Mike nearly gave up on him answering before he finally said, "I have brothers."

"Great. Awesome. Where?"

"I haven't seen them since they were sold."

Mike gritted his teeth against a sigh and led him into the galley.

The rest of the crew stared at them, their eyes tracking as if guided by lasers down Mike's body, to their still-joined hands, to Kevin in his simple, elegant, revealing clothes. Mike dropped his hand in a hurry and tried to ignore Kevin's hurt little not-expression.

(And how had he gotten so good at reading the kid's blank looks in a day, for fucks sake? Mike buried that one down deep alongside a lot of other thoughts he'd been having about Kevin since he'd shown up.)

"Plates over there, cutlery there, serve yourself, clean up after yourself," Mike said briskly, heading over to the first station.

Kevin caught him in two steps, sliding neatly past him. "I will serve you." He caught Mike's thunderous expression, and added, downcast. "I mean, if that pleas- if that is alright with you. I want to be useful."

Mike was too tired for the argument. He sat down gracelessly in his seat and ignored the evil looks from his crew as Kevin hummed around the galley looking the happiest he had all day.

William looked particularly furious with him, and Mike just glared and wished he could have a fucking cigarette.

It didn't take long before Kevin was proudly putting a plate in front of him and then moving away from the table-- fuck knows why.

"Kevin," Mike snapped. "I told you. You eat with us. Grab a plate and as much as you want and sit at the table."

Maybe he was just... used to obeying orders, because Kevin nodded, murmured, "Yes, master," and silently grabbed a plate.

When Mike looked back at his crew, they were staring at him in horror, and he could feel a tension headache coming on.

"What do you want me to do?" he hissed to them while Kevin was fixing his plate. "Let him starve? Fuck."

"I wouldn't know anything about the process of keeping a slave," William said coldly.

"Dude. He's not-- I'm not keeping a slave!" Mike argued. "I just...accidentally acquired one. You're acting like I'm... keeping him. He's not-- I'm going to let him go. He's not a slave. That's just." He shook his head. "I'm not okay with that."

"I dunno, Mike," Butcher said quietly, with a little shrug. "Have you told him that? Because he's sure acting like a slave."

Mike thought about it for a moment, watching Kevin. "I told him he could wear whatever he wanted," he said. "That he had his own berth to sleep in. That he ate with us. That he had to answer my questions..." He frowned. Had he mentioned the whole 'slavery sucks' bit? He kind of implied it. Sort of.

"I have a headache," he mumbled.

"Poor baby," William spat before twisting in his seat. "Kevin, come sit with Billvy here," he said more loudly, shuffling up to make space for him.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of awkward tension, as Kevin nervously picked at his plate, obviously starving but just as obviously reluctant to eat in front of them.

Mike cursed under his breath and stood up, jabbing a finger at Kevin when he went to rise also. "Bill, make sure he eats and gets what he needs, soap, towel, whatever. I'm just...I need..." he tossed his plates in the washer and fled to the bridge.

The stars weren't their usual soothing presence - they just served to remind him how far they were from civilization. Normally, Mike was okay with that, but he had a suspicion that a week with Kevin aboard was going to be...interesting.

Mike swung around a monitor and connected to the central net. He needed information. Kevin was formally trained, that was clear. He needed to know what he was dealing with.

Mike disconnected an hour later, a roiling stomach adding its notes of misery to his splitting headache.

They did that to _kids_? Motherfucker, no wonder Kevin was weird, he'd been twisted up by professionals.

At least there was no one kneeling by his doors. Gratefully for small mercies, Mike staggered off to bed.

William woke him up a while later. He hadn't been sleeping long enough and his head still hurt like a bitch, but William looked less murderous. Still disappointed and upset, but not likely to smack him around, which was nice.

"Your boy's clean," he annouced.

"He's not my boy."

William ignored him. "I got Butcher to show him how to use the shower and stuff, because evidently, he's used to being cleaned in a bath tub. With his master." William scowled delicately, and said, "And no way in hell was I letting that happen."

Mike's eyes were a bit wide and he said, "Oh, no, seriously, no. Bill. Will you listen to me? I'm not like that. You know me. I'm not going to... take advantage of some kid or whatever, okay?"

William looked at him for a moment and then shrugged. "I guess. Anyway. Butcher gave him some tea. It was drugged. We figured he wasn't gonna sleep, and he looked like he needed it. Then, after he passed out, we took this off, since you hadn't," he said archly, dropping the collar on the bed.

"Fuck," Mike snapped. "Bill! You think I didn't try-- he didn't want-- Motherfucker, Bill!"

Bill scowled at him. Mike scooped up the leather; it was surprisingly soft and pliant, almost pleasurable against his skin. "He _freaked out_ when I told him to take it off." Mike sat up, grimacing against the pressure behind his eyes, the taste in the back of his throat. "He said...he said it was the only thing that he ever had that was his." Mike stood up and pulled his pants up one-handed, strangely unwilling to put Kevin's collar down. "I've been reading, Bill. Do you know what they do to those kids? If it was an enemy soldier, it'd be considered fucking _torture_. He's messed up and scared, and if wearing this makes him feel secure, then fuck it, he can wear it." Mike stormed out the door, knowing William would follow. "It's not like we're going to tie him up by it or anything."

William's quiet words hit him like a blow. "Even if that's what he's expecting."

Mike's fingers tightened around the leather. With an extreme will, Mike resisted the urge to turn around and slap Bill. Instead, he stalked off down to the passenger dorm.

The drugs were not sitting easily on Kevin. He was twitching in his medicated sleep, Butcher watching him warily from the door. "He's fighting it."

Mike snorted. "I would too, you fucker. Piss off and leave him alone. You two have done enough for tonight."

Mike closed and locked the door after them before kneeling by Kevin's bunk. Kevin pushed into his touch as Mike cradled his neck to slip the collar under him. The buckle was fiddly, but the leather curled back into place like it remembered how to go.

As the pressure of the collar settled on his throat, Kevin settled and stilled. " _Motherfucker_ ," Mike breathed into the silence. His hand was still on the pillow, fingers brushing Kevin's collar. Before he could pull away, Kevin rolled his head and pressed his cheek into the palm of Mike's hand.

Then Kevin smiled, so young and unguarded and sweet that Mike didn't have it in him to pull away. He shifted down until he was sitting on his side and braced himself against the edge of the bunk, watching Kevin sleep.

Mike fell asleep that way. It was regrettable and uncomfortable, but he was really exhausted, and when he wasn't away from Kevin, stressing out over the whole situation, it was just easier to let it go, relax, and sleep.

The drugs wore off some hours later, and Kevin woke up slowly, shifting a little at first and mumbling under his breath. It was all the warning Mike got, and he was still groggy and mostly asleep when Kevin was finally conscious enough to mumble, "Mike?"

"Mmm?" he answered vaguely, wrinkling his nose against the aches and pains and cramps that had settled into his muscles.

Kevin giggled. Mike's eyes flew open, startled. He'd somehow ended up with his face pillowed on the bed, and when he opened his eyes, Kevin's face was really, really close, eyes wide, dark, and hazy with lingering effects of whatever the fuck Butcher had given him. Kevin was high.

"Shit," Mike mumbled, sitting up gradually.

Kevin's smile faded as he took in their surrounds. "Why are you on the floor, sir?"

Mike decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "You took poorly, and I must have fallen asleep after checking on you." He tried to sit up and winced, biting back a curse.

"Sir?" Kevin's hands were gentle as he caught Mike's arms.

"It's Mike," Mike said, trying to ignore how warm and firm and gentle Kevin's hands were. "Everyone else on this boat calls me Mike, so you get to as well."

Kevin dipped his head, but maybe the drugs were still sloshing about his system, or maybe he was starting to believe that Mike meant what he said. "As you wish, Mike?"

It was only because he was looking at exactly the right moment that he caught the tiny darting look Kevin shot him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Kevin looked away just as quickly, and Mike had to sit back, put some distance between them. "How are you feeling? Honestly."

Kevin swallowed, making the collar ride up for a second. "Still a little sleepy, Mike."

Mike couldn't help but smile at Kevin's quiet glee at using first names freely, even if that feeling was tempered by a quiet rage that it _was_ such a novelty for him. "Then go back to sleep, kiddo. It's dark out."

"We're in space, it's always dark out," Kevin said lightly, eyes already glazing over. But he laid down, even if he kept his hand almost possessively on Mike's arm.

Mike carefully lifted it off and tucked Kevin in before he realized what he was doing. "Sleep," he said gently, and Kevin obeyed.

Mike snuck quietly out of the passenger dorm. He made it to the first junction and turned to face what seemed like his entire crew, staring at him, arms crossed, faces stormy. William stepped forward, eyes flashing with an intense, contained fury. "Just tucking our wayward little waif in, were we, _Captain_?" he snarled.

Mike barked a laugh, tired and sore and cranky. "Actually, yes. Dismissed." He pushed through the crowd and stalked back to his quarters, sinking down onto his bunk with a pained sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike caught up on his sleep, woke up feeling much better, if still somewhat pissed at his crew. He changed, grabbed coffee on his way to the bridge, and was pleased with the fact that his crew seemed to know to stay out of his way, as he didn't bump into any of them.

The bridge was empty and he collapsed in his chair, connecting to the network before sending a brief, whiny message to Gabe, a long time friend. It went "Won slave boy in poker game. Crew is going to mutiny. Please advise."

Gabe replied a few moments later with "hahaha Vicky's gonna kill you, fucker."

Mike sighed and drained his coffee, setting the mug aside. He called up their coordinates, made sure they were on the quickest route to the nearest civilised place to dump Kevin, and then, after a moment, reconnected to the network to do a bit more research.

There was a slave registry, and he typed Kevin's name in with some reservations. A number of photographs of various slaves named Kevin popped up, and he searched through them to find the Kevin currently occupying his passenger dorm, and clicked for more information.

He felt sick as he skimmed through training reports, ownership history, including, at the bottom of the page, his own name. The chit kept the file updated digitally.

Mike was about to leave the page when he saw a little link entitled 'relations'. He clicked it and three more pictures came up, each of another boy. Joe, Nick, Frankie. Brothers.

Mike winced because they were all progressively younger even than Kevin was, and Frankie was just a child.

'Hadn't seen them since they were sold,' Kevin had said. A family, broken up and raffled off to the highest bidder, their skills and aptitudes just so much fodder for the auctioneer.

"Checking the ownership history," came a snarky voice from behind him. "Is this the slave owner equivalent of kicking the tyres?"

Mike span around on his chair. William was still glaring. "Bill, don't. Just...don't."

Something must have finally broken through to William. He came around, swinging the monitor over to read the histories himself. "He was pretty much born into slavery," William said quietly. "He won't last two minutes on one of the outposts, they'd eat him alive."

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. He had already started coming to a similar conclusion. "I didn't ask for this," he whined. "I hate the idea of slaves."

William's eyes widened, a second too late, and Mike swiveled around again to see Kevin standing in the door, head bowed, every line in his body pulled tight. He had a mug in his hands. "I...I brought you your coffee..." Kevin glanced, lightning fast at William. "Mike," he added, almost daringly.

"Awesome," Mike said brightly, trying to ignore the tension and awkwardness. "Thanks. You didn't have to, but thanks. Did you eat anything? Or have coffee? A muffin? Anything?"

He shut up because he was babbling and that was something Mike tried not to do. But William was flushed and uncomfortable, Kevin was upset _again_ , and Mike just... didn't know if he could take anymore tension.

"The Butcher made me eat a muffin," Kevin said. "Mike."

"Awesome. Good." Mike sipped the fresh coffee, and glanced at William. "Uh, so. We all pull our weight around here, is there anything in particular you can do to help out? William navigates, sort of. Butcher's the cook, and Sisky does all the engine stuff. Michael Guy is security."

Kevin glanced at William again, looking cornered, like this was some kind of test. He fidgeted nervously with the D-ring on his collar and said carefully, "I serve you?"

"No," Mike said patiently. "You don't. You don't have to. I serve myself. What else can you do?"

Kevin thought for a moment, shifting on his feet, twisting a finger into the D-ring, and then blinking rapidly. "I don't know, sir-- Mike," he finally confessed quietly, lowering his head.

"Do you knit?" William asked. "You need a hobby. I can teach you."

Kevin frowned and Mike hid a smirk at his confusion. "Knitting," he said. "Awesome. Go learn to knit, if you want to."

Kevin looked perplexed but followed William from the room. It wasn't an entirely useless skill. Sometimes they sold William's knitted masterpieces in the colonies for lots of money.

Mike kept himself busy the rest of the day, haunting any part of the ship that wasn't the mess and common area. He did a full diagnostic of navigation and helm, went down and lurked in engineering until Sisky threatened him with a spanner, even did inventory.

That barely took him to lunchtime. Butcher and Michael Guy were in the galley, sniggering over the soup. "Hey Mike," Butcher said sarcastically. "Your boy there will make someone a pretty wife. Turns out he's good at knitting, and sewing, and cooking too."

Mike grabbed a mug. "Maybe he can have your job then," he snarked back, ignoring Butcher as he mimed being stabbed through the heart.

However, when Kevin joined them at the table without being told, Mike maybe felt a little lighter. But when his entire crew started making appreciative noises over the soup, Mike started feeling like maybe he missed a memo.

Kevin's blush clued him in; Butcher had said something about cooking? "You made this?" Mike asked.

Kevin nodded, but Mike caught the edge of a tiny, proud smile before he dipped his head.

"It's good," Mike said neutrally, and Kevin lit up more than for all the other's praise combined.

"So," Sisky said. "Who's up for shooting some hoops this afternoon. We have enough for three-on-three for once."

Kevin looked up, brow furrowed. "You play basketball?" Butcher asked him.

"What's basketball?" Kevin asked softly.

Mike tore a lump off his breadroll as the others laughed, not seeming to see how Kevin gently flinched back from the noise. "It's a game," he said instead. "We'll teach you."

The teams were divided into Mike, Kevin, and Michael vs. Sisky, Butcher, and Bill. They had installed two basketball hoops in the cargo deck, and Mike tried teaching Kevin the rules while Sisky ran to fetch a ball.

It was more complicated than Mike had thought, and Kevin looked hopelessly confused.

After the game started, though, it only took a few minutes of observing before Kevin caught on. And of course he was amazing at it.

He didn't seem particularly impressed with his skills, though, seeming to take for granted the fact that he scored repeated baskets, only lighting up when Mike smiled in approval. It was a little disconcerting, Mike was used to being teased and mocked by his crew, that's just how they operated. He wasn't used to someone looking to him for approval.

Mike also realized that Kevin was trained to do whatever it took to make his owner happy -- whether that involved things he hated, or things he liked.

Kevin had obviously decided that, to please Mike, he needed to ease off on the slave-talk, and take his cues from the crew. So when Sisky and Butcher stripped off their shirts, Kevin followed their lead.

Mike turned away hurriedly and tossed the ball for the hoop, not only missing the net but almost the back board. Kevin was compact, almost sleek. He had an aptitude for calisthenics and acrobatics, he remembered from the report, and it showed in the muscles on his body.

Mike tried not to notice the thin lines of scars on his skin.

"Game on, fuckers!" Sisky crowed gleefully, retrieving Mike's wild ball. Mike took a deep breath and turned around.

Kevin was all long lines as he accepted the drink Butcher pushed on him. His collar was a sharp black line across the smoother, softer tanned skin. Mike clapped his hands. "Come on, game on," his said gruffly.

The game got edgier, harder, both teams trying for wilder shots and crazier passes amid the usual trashtalk that featured in any of their long-haul games.

William called the game after Kevin sunk a perfect throw from the far side of the court. "Fuck it, I know when I'm outclassed. Game over, last one to move gets a cold shower."

Mike caught the ball off the bounce as the guys raced for the crew deck and the limited supplies of hot water. He let them go and turned to Kevin.

Kevin was grinning, panting, almost glowing with happy excitement.

"I take it you like basketball?" Mike asked.

Kevin glanced around, like he was checking they were really alone. "Very much so. I would be happy to be on your team again, Mike."

Mike tossed him the ball. "That's the first time I've been on the winning team since Michael Guy joined the ship. You can be on my team any time." He had to look away as a blinding flash of...something crossed Kevin's face. "Come on, hit the showers," Mike said.

Kevin tilted his head, almost coyly. "I...I could assist you," he said softly. "I am very good at massage, and the muscles response best after a warm bath." He looked up through his lashes at Mike almost hopefully.

"I like being dirty," Mike said quickly. Then he blinked and rephrased. "I mean, I'll shower later. That's fine. You, uh, go take care of yourself, and I'll... later. I don't mind the, uhm, cold shower."

He winced, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes and wondering when he'd turned into a girl. Probably about the time Kevin took his shirt off. It was ridiculous, he lived on a ship with Butcher, he was used to half naked guys.

He'd been in space too long, that was all. He just needed some shore leave, find a nice, pretty boy or girl in some port somewhere (one who didn't wear a fucking collar and who didn't think they belonged to him and were obligated to please him, fuck), and just. Get this out of his system.

Kevin looked disappointed but he just nodded, ducking his head. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, not even noticing the way he'd slipped and forgotten to call him Mike.

He slipped through the doorway towards the showers without looking back, and Mike felt like shit. He was getting kind of used to the feeling.

William found him lurking on the bridge later on in the afternoon. "Dude, we recycle the air, so for the good of the ship, fucking bathe."

Mike ignored him. "How come doing the right thing makes you feel like the biggest piece of shit in the galaxy?"

William slung himself into the navigator's seat. "Would this perchance have anything to do with the fact that Kevin is down in the galley, desperately trying to be helpful to Butcher but basically sighing like a heroine in one of those books Sisky doesn't think we know he reads?" He sighed. "Okay, cliff notes version."

Despite his misgivings, Mike briefly recapped Kevin's offer. Bill rolled his eyes. "Well, of course. You're nice to him, and he wants to repay you. You did tell him to be useful, and he might be good at knitting and cooking and freakish three point throws, but all his life, the only thing he's been _told_ he's good at is serving other people."

Mike looked up. "Should it worry me that you're actually making sense?"

William beamed at him and stood up. "My making sense is indeed a sign of the apocalypse. Come on, you need to at least rinse off and change that shirt before we're going to let you eat with the grown ups."

"I am Captain," he pointed out before he went to grab a quick cold shower and a change of clothes.

When he stepped into the galley, the rest of the crew were just sitting down. A plate of food and a full glass were already at his place. Mike glared at Kevin, but Kevin refused to look up.

Mike slowly sat down.

After a few moments of quiet, Sisky snapped, unable to stand it, and started talking about the message he'd received from his brother earlier that day. He managed to go ten minutes without seeming to pause for a breath, before running out of steam.

It was quiet again, and then Kevin said falteringly, "My brother--" He stopped, and everyone stared at him, so he looked down at his plate.

Mike nudged his foot encouragingly under the table, and when Kevin looked up at him, he tried to smile reassuringly. "What about your brother?"

Kevin beamed at him, and said, "Joe. He played basketball, I think. I can't really remember, we were very young, at the Academy, but I think that's what we were playing. And Nick too." He paused. "Those are two of my brothers."

"Cool," Sisky said brightly. "Where are they now?"

Kevin instantly shut down, looking back at his plate. "Omega sector," he said quietly. "I think. They were sold, I'm not sure... Sir."

Mike shot Sisky a glare, and Sisky looked apologetic, but didn't say anything. Finally, Butcher offered, "Sometimes Sisky wishes he could sell his brother."

Mike was horrified. He was going to kill Butcher, that was so not okay, he couldn't joke about--

Kevin looked at Butcher and smiled a little. "Yeah?" he asked.

Grinning, Butcher nodded. "Totally."

"Do not," Sisky mumbled, but Kevin was laughing softly, and Mike was too distracted to care about Sisky.

Maybe it was a bad idea, letting Kevin hang out with Butcher all day in the galley. Mike's eyes narrowed suspiciously, watching the way they seemed almost...friendly.

Definitely not good. Not that Mike was jealous.

Mike stayed in his seat as people cleared their dishes and drifted away. Kevin and Butcher started cleaning up the galley, the two of them working together easily.

Yeah, not jealous. Right, sure.

"Captain, did you want to look over those navigational charts?" William was standing in the hatch.

"Charts? We're literally a million miles from anything, on autopilot, why would I want to look at charts?" Mike asked in blank confusion.

William waggled his eyebrows, looked pointedly and not-very-discreetly at the pair in the galley. "To check that thing?" he said archly.

"The thing. Right," Mike drawled. He put his mug on the counter, smiling in thanks as Kevin immediately whisked it up and put it in with the other dishes to be cleaned.

William waited until they were barely out of earshot down the passage. "Seriously, Mike, as your friend? What the fuck is going on? You were staring at Butcher like you wanted to strip his flesh from his bones. What gives? Didn't you want Kevin to relax a little?"

Mike winced. "Yeah, yeah, don't mind me, just distracted."

"Uh huh," William murmured, obviously not buying it for a second.

"Night, William," Mike said pointedly, turning and heading for his cabin.

He sat down at his little rollout desk and pulled up the ships accounts - it was a dull, boring task, but it needed to be done, and it gave him an excuse to hide in his cabin until the rest of the ship turned in.

His eyes were burning and his headache was threatening to make a comeback when there was a light tap on the hatch. Mike looked up as Kevin eased through to stand just inside the room. "Butcher said you usually have a cup of tea before bed?" he said, holding the steaming mug out like a shield.

Mike nodded, taking it and putting it on his desk. "Thank you, Kevin, but you really don't have to..."

"But I want to," Kevin said hurriedly, before remembering himself. He drew back in, hands folded, eyes demurely lowered. Mike rubbed the back of his neck, hissing softly at the feel of tense, sore muscles. "I," Kevin said haltingly. Mike looked up to see Kevin watching him. "I meant what I said, earlier. I am an excellent masseuse, and I have been taught all the theraputic forms." He swallowed. "And you do seem tense."

Mike grimaced. "Just tense shoulders, from all the paperwork. I'm fine."

"Mike," Kevin said softly but firmly as he advanced two cautious steps into the room. "You cannot be captain if you are feeling unwell from the stress, and I can help with that. Please, I want to be of use."

Mike knew he needed to say no, send Kevin away. But the words died in his throat as Kevin came around to stand behind his chair. Mike groaned as Kevin's strong fingers dug into flesh, unerringly finding the knots and making them melt away.

Mike didn't know what he expected, but Kevin never strayed below the shoulders. Mike was embarrassed to find he was almost purring as Kevin started massaging his scalp.

"Better?" Kevin asked softly, his fingers finally stilling, carded through Mike's hair.

Mike was too boneless to do more than groan happily.

"Goodnight, Mike," Kevin whispered and eased out of the room on silent feet.

 

 

 

The clothes that the Butcher gave Kevin fit oddly and chafed uncomfortably. He wasn't used to fabric actually being fitted in any way, having grown up in loose outfits, and he felt uncomfortable as he made breakfast the next morning. The ship was still in 'night' mode, the lights turned low to encourage sleep and to keep the crew to a regular sleeping pattern, and Kevin worked quickly and quietly. He had been trained to need less sleep than regular people, and couldn't just lay there waiting until the others were awake before doing something, so preparing breakfast seemed a good idea.  
   
The Butcher came in first, yawning and rubbing sleepily at his eyes, and he stared in surprise when silently handed him a mug of coffee. "Hey," he said mildly. "That's my job." He collapsed at the table, and within the next few minutes, the rest of the crew trickled in, except Mike.  
   
William was last, glancing around suspiciously as he hurried in, late. "Mike's not here? Did I miss him? Is he mad?" he asked, dropping into his seat.  
   
"'Hasn't been here yet," Sisky said, mouth full. He seemed, at least, to be heartly enjoying Kevin's breakfast.  
   
When Mike finally stumbled in, he looked sleepy, ruffled, and well-rested. It was the first time Kevin had seen him without dark circles, stress lines, and he looked younger. His hair was standing up, there were pillow lines on his cheek, and was still flushed from sleep.  
   
"Overslept," he mumbled, and kevin smiled to himself, a little bit smug. He had _told_ Mike that he'd been well-trained.  
   
"You get laid?" Sisky asked gracelessly, staring. "You look like you got laid."  
   
William started choking on his breakfast.

"No," Mike said, already looking more awake, grumpy, and stressed.  "I did _not_ get laid.  Shut the fuck up."

But William watched Mike like a hawk all through breakfast.

When Kevin started to clear up, Butcher was on his feet.  "Nope, not getting my job that easily, kiddo, go find something else to do."  Kevin looked around, but everyone else had already headed off to their stations and tasks, leaving him behind.  But Butcher seemed serious, pointing to the hatch out, so Kevin slunk out.

He wasn't used to not having someone tell him what to do, and he wasn't quite sure what he was allowed to do.  It seemed everything he tried ended up upsetting his master sooner or later.  Kevin had always been a good slave, well-trained and obedient, yet obedience didn't seem to be valued on this ship by anyone, least of all his master.

Kevin hugged himself as he remembered the vehemence with which Mike had declared he hated slaves yesterday.  He was probably going to be sold soon, and if Mike wrote a bad report in his file, he might be devalued.  He'd heard stories about the way cheaper slaves were treated -- he'd always worked hard to keep his price high, to get only the best kind of buyer whenever he was put on the market.

But Mike had also slept on the floor while Kevin had slept on the bed that first night, and that's not what masters did, especially masters displeased with their slaves.  It was all so confusing and a little overwhelming.

Kevin glanced around, getting his bearings.  He was in the little common area below the mess, between the infirmary and the hold.  The space was barely as wide as Kevin was tall, and half of it was taken up with a long seat, worn, overstuffed cushions piled into the corner, a tiny nook of a shelf above it.  No-one seemed to be needing him now, least of all Mike.  Maybe the best thing he could do was stay out of everyone's way for the day.  Kevin investigated the shelf and found it was stuffed with worn old paperbacks.  Some of his master's didn't like that he knew how to read, and Kevin had hidden the fact from them - reading was not a general slave skill.  But he had a feeling that Mike wouldn't really care.  Selecting one at random, he curled up on the couch and started to read.  

 

 

 

 

 

Hours passed before Mike even realized he hadn't seen Kevin. He might have noticed sooner if Sisky wasn't having some sort of engine crisis that required Mike to sit in the bridge and push buttons on his commands while he struggled to find where, exactly, the trouble was coming from, which was a mind-numbing way to spend the first part of the day. Then he had paperwork to do, and then he realized, with a start, that he hadn't actually seen Kevin for the better part of the day, and that it was pretty rare. The boy always seemed to be underfoot, trying to serve him or whatever.  
   
A lurch of strange and sickening jealousy made him stagger suspiciously to his feet. Kevin was probably with Butcher, he was probably trying to serve _him_ or something, or massaging his shoulders, or-- he was walking quickly and growing more furious with every step.  
   
He burst into the galley, scowling, and snapped at Butcher, "Where is he?"  
   
"Uhm," said Butcher.  
   
"Kevin!" Mike was growing impatient. "Where is he?"  
   
"I sent him away?" Butcher said carefully. "After breakfast?"  
   
Mike blinked. "But. Where." His anger faltered and left pure confusion, and a bit of worry. The ship wasn't the safest place for someone who didn't know what they were doing. On top of that, Sisky had hatches and grates open all over the ship as he chased down his mysterious little technical gremlin, and he wasn't the best at putting things back as he went.  If Kevin fell, hurt himself, even fainted again, no-one might have noticed yet.

Butcher was backing away from his slowly, and Mike snapped himself back under control with an effort.  His explanation for his concern sounded plausible even spoken aloud, and Butcher nodded.  "I'll take foredeck, you take aft," he said, already heading for the hatch.

Mike moved through the ship, sticking his head into any open hatch, calling Kevin softly.  He skidded down the steps, intending to check the infirmary, and stopped.

There was a lump under a blanket on the crappy old couch in the nook that filled the dead space behind the infirmary.  Mike crept up softly, and twitched back the well-warn material.

Kevin was dead to the world, curled up on his side, the still-open book held between limp fingers.  Mike gently extracted it; Kevin stirred but did not wake.  Mike sighed, trying and failing to resist the urge to smooth down the blanket before going to call off the search.  Kevin could sleep until dinner, he obviously needed it.

When he went back up to the main decks, the rest of the crew was there, called back from the search by Butcher.  William was smirking.  Mike scowled at them.  "Sisky, cover up those fucking hatches.  Michael Guy, go help him.  William, get on the fucking bridge and make sure Sisky's fucking gremlin hasn't screwed up the autopilot.  Butcher, dinner."  He slumped down onto his seat as everyone else leapt to their tasks.

He remembered when life was simple.  He missed those days.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Kevin had bad dreams. Hazy memories of being a kid and being pulled away from his brothers, screaming for them, reaching for them, interspersed with those violent, sharp memories of the whip cutting open his back... They usually happened when he was stressed, uncertain, and the situation onboard the _Santi_ definitely qualified.

At first, after he fell asleep reading, he was fine-- content, even. Sweet, soft dreams and genuinely peaceful sleep. Then it became the same nightmare it always did, and he started twitching violently in his sleep, fighting against the blanket that was suddenly too tight around him, and crying out, muffled, terrified sobs, reaching out blindly for his brothers.

Usually, he woke himself up when his sounds got too loud. This time, however, he startled away when a blind, desperate move of his hand caused it to slam into someone warm and solid. He flinched, eyes flying open, unable to recall where he was for a terrifying moment. He made a low, confused, and wounded sound, unable to help it.

"Hey, Kevin, hey," Mike said soothingly. It was dark and Mike had grabbed the hand that had flailed out and hit him, and was stroking his wrist. Kevin turned and stared at him, still panting, voice aching from the noises he'd made.

He couldn't sort reality out from the dream, but as soon as bits of reality-- Mike, master, ship-- started filtering back, he gasped in panic and scrambled off the bed, hitting his knees, bent forward, and saying shakily, "Forgive me, master-- sir, please, I did not mean to forget myself-- to fall asleep, I--"

"Shit, hey, goddamn it. Kevin. We've talked about this," Mike said, sounding frustrated. He knelt in front of Kevin, grabbing his shoulders, forcing him to straighten. "Listen, it's fine, you're fine. You didn't do anything wrong, everything-- it's good. It's just-- dinner. And you seemed..." He made a face. "Like you were freaking out. Or something. Bad dream?"

The kind, soothing quality of Mike's voice was something Kevin didn't know how to react to. He let out a harsh, sobbing breath and said, "This is not supposed to happen. You are not supposed to kneel with me, I don't know how..." He shook his head, struggled to remember his training, and started to panic, flashes of the nightmare making him tremble.

"S'okay," Mike said, warm hands still on Kevin's shoulders, and Kevin just gave up, folding forward until his forehead was on Mike's shoulders and he was leaning against him, gasping for breath and trembling. He kept mumbling that he was sorry, but Mike just stroked his back and didn't say anything at all.

Kevin finally subsided, tremors smoothing out, though he still seemed as fragile as glass. Mike never ceased stroking his back and arms, soothing and gentle. "Sorry," Kevin mumbled into his shoulder, and he tried to straighten up.

Mike didn't let him pull back more than an arms length. "Nothing to apologize for," he said quietly. "Now, I don't know about you, but my knees aren't ready for this. Want to sit on the couch instead?"

Kevin hiccuped, but nodded. He was meant to make his master feel good, and if Mike was going to keep going to his knees because of Kevin, well, then Kevin would just have to solve that. He half-crawled onto the edge of the couch, feeling shaky and unsure.

Mike pulled himself up and sat next to him, touching knee to shoulder. "Do you want to, um, talk about it?" he asked softly. "Your nightmare?"

Kevin shook his head. It was his problem, he'd already burdened Mike enough. "Hey," Mike said, nudging him gently. "It's okay."

Kevin fidgeted. There was the faint smell of food in the air, and he lifted his head. "It's dinnertime," he said, a little disorientated.

Mike nodded. "You've been asleep most of the afternoon at least," he agreed calmly.

Kevin's fingers laced together to make a fist on his lap. "I am sorry sir, you shouldn't have to come find me."

"It's Mike," he replied patiently. "And you didn't miss much, unless you _really_ wanted to see Sisky swear a lot." He huffed a smile. "Besides, it looked like you could use the rest."

Kevin shook his head, eyes firmly on his knees. "I am trained to require minimal sleep to function, so that I may better serve my masters," he said by rote.

Mike knocked into him again, a little harder. "Bullshit," he said flatly. "For fuck's sake, is that what they taught you? To even sleep to please someone else?"

Kevin could feel the tremors building. His treacherous hands were starting to shake, and he tightened his fist. "To serve is to have worth," he whispered, taking solace in the old catechisms. "To exist, you must have worth. To exist is to serve."

"Kevin?" Mike said. "Worth isn't something you find in someone else's reflection. It's what you do, with your own hands."

Kevin nodded vigorously. "My hands, yes. I am trained to serve."

Mike swore under his breath. "Come on, I can't argue moral philosophy on an empty stomach." He stood and held out his hand.

Kevin took it and let Mike pull him to his feet. "I have worth," he said quietly but with feeling.

"Yes," Mike said. "And it's all yours." He turned and headed towards the mess.

Kevin let his fingers brush over the collar around his neck and followed.

 

 

 

 

William barely blinked when Mike walked into the galley holding Kevin's hand. Maybe he was getting used to it. Mike wondered if that was a good thing or not, and then sighed and shook his head. He filled up a plate for himself while Kevin watched, looking haunted and wounded, and then, before Kevin could argue, he filled up a plate for him too, and held it out with his most charming grin.  
   
"Working on my self-worth," he said, gently teasing, and Kevin's eyes narrowed. Mike idly wondered if he could push him far enough to make him snap and argue or something, and if it would be a good thing to do. There had to be some part of Kevin that hated the servitude and self-worth shit that they'd trained him to believe. Maybe, if Mike pissed him off enough, Kevin would be a real boy again, and not the robot they'd tried to make him.  
   
Kevin just too the plate with a polite "Thank you, Mike," and went to the table, quiet and subdued.  
   
It was quiet at the table at first, and Mike just wasn't used to it. Sisky usually chattered with Butcher, but both of them looked quiet. Having a slave on board was definitely fucking with the morale of his ship.  
   
"There's a merchant ship nearby," he said suddenly. Kevin jerked, going deathly pale, but Mike continued. "We could dock on her in a few hours, early tomorrow, to restock essential supplies."  
   
Butcher frowned. "I didn't realize we were low on--"  
   
Mike shrugged. "You seriously gonna tell me you aren't sick of seeing the same faces every day?"  
   
"We could get a new boardgame," Sisky said suddenly.  
   
"Some clothes for Kevin," William said pointedly.  
   
Kevin was staring at his plate, looking sick. "I can wear my uniform for the auction market," he said tonelessly.  
   
Everyone stared.  "Fuck," Mike said suddenly. "Shit, Kevin, we're not fucking _selling_ you. What have I got to do to convince you that you can stay on this ship as long as you want to?"  
   
Which... hadn't exactly been the plan, actually. Mike had fully intended to dump him somewhere where he could get a job. That was before Kevin had been all broken and shaking in his arms earlier, or had looked so definantly brave even when faced with the idea that he was going to be sold.  
   
Kevin just stared at him, cheeks flushing, looking uncertain. William was looking at him speculatively, and Mike lost his patience. "Whatever. Merchant  ship. We can afford to spend a few hours in the market. Butcher, you can stock up on stuff for the kitchen-- maybe take Kevin with you, if he wants to go. I'm pretty sure you've been bitching about needing some part for the engine or something, Sisky. After you guys do that, you can pick up whatever else you need."  
   
His ship was pretty busy, usually with strictly legal deliveries, but also the odd smuggling venture, and all profits were shared equally, other than what was taken for running the ship, supplies and fuel, food.... Mike looked at Kevin speculatively and rather anticipated the fight he could see arising when he tried to give Kevin his share of the funds to spend at the market in the morning. He smirked at him, and Kevin just stared at him, still looking lost and overwhelmed.

The conversation around the table sparked as people started making shopping lists; only Mike and Kevin were silent.

Mike withdrew to the bridge after dinner, to plot the change of course and just stare at the stars. Through the open hatch, he could hear the low murmur of conversation, the occasional chink of dishes being put away, the constant, almost inaudible hum of the engines.

It took a few seconds for Mike to realize the room didn't feel as empty as it usually did. He looked over his shoulder, almost unsurprised now at how silently Kevin could move. "Hey, pull up a seat."

Kevin sat hesitantly, perched on the edge like he expected to be yelled upright at any moment. "Will you...are you..." he flushed and licked his lips. "I am not to be sold?"

Mike shook his head. "Listen, kid, I was going to just let you off at the first world you could find honest work at, but really, that'd be like putting a fledgling in a hyena's den. And selling you would be almost as bad, even if it is what you're used to. So I figure you can stay here, do what work that needs doing, and learn how to stand on your own two feet. Deal?"

Kevin was silent so long, Mike turned to look at him. Kevin was fidgeting with his fingers again. "I don't remember life before. I was sold as an infant, bought to be trained." He looked up, directly at Mike. "This is all I know and all I am good at."

Mike bit back the first stinging retort that rose to his lips. "Well, then, I order you to answer this question honestly. Are you really that willing to be bought by a stranger for gods know what?"

Kevin stilled, and Mike had his answer even before Kevin spoke. "I...It is confusing, to be bought, or traded," he added, and Mike smiled at that tiny, tentative jab. "But my role usually becomes clear."

Mike laughed. "Real life, real freedom ain't that neat, kid. It's messy and confusing and sometimes just downright weird." He smirked and winked at Kevin. "But done right, it can be glorious."

Kevin almost smiled back. He rose gracefully to his feet, and Mike had to admit, in the quiet of his own head, that whoever trained Kevin had done a thorough job. "Do you require me to complete any further tasks tonight, Captain?"

Mike smiled, recognizing the title for what it was. "Nothing I can think of. We'll set you some chores in the morning."

Kevin paused by Mike's chair. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Kevin." But he was already gone on silent feet. Mike leaned back in his chair and watched the stars burn.

 

 

 

 

 

They docked at the merchant ship early the next day (or what passed for day, in space). Mike was glad he'd decided on the slight detour, his crew clearly needed the break from solitude, and he rolled his eyes fondly as he handed out the funds for whatever supplies they needed, and their portion of the profits they'd made.

When he handed Kevin his, he just stared, confused. Before he could ask, Mike said, "Stay with Butcher, don't wander off by yourself."

"He can kind of do what he wants, Mike," William said pointedly, but Mike rolled his eyes.

"He's wearing a collar, Bill," he said sharply. "I don't want people thinking he's a runaway or whatever."

Kevin touched the collar with his fingertips, frowning a little, thoughtful, but he didn't take it off. "Thank you," he said instead, quietly. "I'll stay with the Butcher."

Butcher slung an arm around his shoulders and grinned. "We'll have more fun than these motherfuckers anyway," he said brightly. "We'll swing by the market, pick up some fresh stuff, then hit up the clothing shops, get you something to wear that might actually fit. Maybe some shoes."

Kevin still looked unsure but he smiled at him and Mike wasn't jealous at all.

After his crew left, Mike locked up the ship, left it in the dock, and went to wander the market himself. He didn't need anything, except maybe a change of scenery. He resolved to stay away from the gaming rooms, especially after his last game, and instead, wandered almost aimlessly.

He found himself in the slave markets, almost accidentally, and stared in horror and growing fury at the men, women, and children in pens, some wearing collars like Kevin's. He kind of wanted to buy and free them all, and had to leave before he did anything impulsive and foolish.

He found himself in the livestock section next, amongst crates of chickens and pens of goats, for whichever adventurous ship decided to keep live animals onboard. He was just skirting through, intending to head back to the ship, when shouting caught his attention and he turned out of curiosity to look.

One of the shopkeepers had lost his temper at a small, mangy, and clearly hungry dog who had tried to snatch something from his booth. There were quite a few stray dogs in the market, runaways or guard dogs who'd wandered off, pets who had gotten lost or abandoned. There were probably places selling the animals somewhere too, Mike knew. This dog didn't look like he'd fetch much of a profit, especially after a particularly swift kick probably cracked a few ribs and sent him crashing into a gate.

Mike kind of lost his temper. The next thing he knew, he'd paid the man far too much for the dog, scooped it carefully up, and was storming back to the ship, cradling it as it whimpered against his chest. It's eyes were big and wounded and scared and so much like Kevin's that Mike cursed himself every step of the way.

He told himself that it was a clearly logical thing to do because maybe if he gave Kevin something else to fuss over, to take care of, Kevin would stop feeling so crestfallen that Mike didn't need to be taken care of. It helped him avoid giving into the realization that he'd gone completely soft and had just bought Kevin a motherfucking puppy.


	3. Chapter 3

He stayed on the ship, scrounging through Butcher's kitchen until he found a dish.  He filled it with water, and the puppy lapped at it gratefully.  "I hope you turn into a guard dog or something," he told the dog, failing to keep the scowl on his face when the puppy panted happily at him, curled up on his feet, and went to sleep.

Mike may have ended up dozing a little too, for he snapped awake at the sound of voices in the loading bay.  His neck ached, and at his feet, the dog was grumbling low in its chest, part growl, part whine.  The pup looked to Mike.  "Not you too," he said, rubbing the mutt between the ears before getting up and heading down to see to his crew.

Kevin was flushed, eyes bright but smiling.  He was carrying bags in either hand, the sleeve of a shirt trailing out of one, as he watched Sisky and Butcher and William paw through each other's purchases.  Kevin was the first to notice him, his eyes widening as they dropped to where the dog was following Mike down the steps.  "A dog!" Kevin said, dropping his bags to come forward.  He sunk to one knee, holding out his hand and clicking his tongue as the dog cowered behind Mike's legs.  Mike nodded to Kevin, and the dog cautiously came forward, relaxing as Kevin let the dog sniff his hand.  Kevin laughed as he scritched the pup until the dog's hind leg started to thump in pleasure, and Mike felt like buying the dog was the best idea in the world.

"Starting a collar collection, Captain," William asked quietly.

Mike didn't react.  "I figure two lost waifs together have a better chance than if they're apart."  On the deck, Kevin buried his face briefly in the dog's ruff, and William fell silent.

"Whose is she?  Does she have a name?"

Mike made a face.  Of course he got suckered in a by a bitch.  "No name that I know.  She just needed a home."

Butcher came over, holding out his hand for the dog to sniff.  "Don't let Mike name her.  That's how this beast came to be called the _Santi_."

Mike scowled, but without heat.  "What should we call her then?" he asked his crew.

There were a few weird suggestions - Rover, from Sisky and Fang from William.  "Daisy?" Kevin asked quietly, voice almost lost in the laughter and teasing.

The other men quietened.  "Daisy," William said, nodding.

Mike smiled.  "Daisy it is.  Kevin, remember those chores I mentioned?  Looking after Daisy is one of them."

Kevin beamed like he'd won the lottery.

 

 

 

 

 

Daisy and Kevin were inseparable, and Mike was pretty smug (and only reluctantly jealous, what the fuck). Plus, Butcher had brought back motherfucking _pizza_ from the market, as well as beer. It was a pretty awesome day, all told.  
   
After they ate so much pizza that they felt sick, and the ship had left the market, and they were back on route, Mike finally let himself relax. Sisky had found some old movie stand at the market and stocked up on the classics, declaring it a movie night in the common area, which meant everyone was lying around, watching _The Matrix_ , in various stages of beer-induced buzz, pizza-induced sleepiness, or rapt fascination with the film.  
   
Kevin was wearing his new pyjamas. He kept rubbing the fleece material with his fingertips, marvelling over it, when he thought no one was watching. The rest of the time, he stroked Daisy's fur and spoke softly and soothingly to her, like she was still frightened. She really, really wasn't. She seemed pretty content with all the attention, though.  
   
When the others had mostly drifted off to sleep, Kevin turned to Mike, found him watching him, and beamed at him. "Best day ever," he confessed to Mike softly. "Thank you."  
   
Mike made a face. "Hanging out with Butcher was that fun?" he asked. Not jealous.  
   
Kevin blinked and then his smile turned shy. "I meant the part when I came back and you were waiting with Daisy," he said. Then, after a pause, he added, "And the pyjamas, too."

Mike had to laugh softly at that.  "You're pretty low-maintenance, aren't you."  He eased himself up, and started picking up the plates and cups - in a recycled atmosphere, the smell of stale beer and day old cheese was one that lingered, no matter how fast they ran the scrubbers.  He heard the chitter of Daisy's claws on the bare decking of the corridor, and looked up to see Kevin expertly balancing the rest of the dishes.

They walked silently back into the mess and loaded the washer, working easily as a team as Daisy sat by the cabinets and looked hopefully at the scraps.  "No more," Kevin told her.  "You've already had enough, you'll get sick."  He looked up, flushed, and looked away.  "What?" he mumbled.

"You," Mike said.  "Giving orders."  He gripped Kevin's shoulder, warm from where he had been curled up, soft with the newness of the fleece.  "Nice change." Kevin ducked, but Mike caught the edge of his grin.  "Did you get everything you needed at market," he asked, changing the subject.

Kevin nodded.  "Butcher kept telling me I needed things."  He made a wry face.  "I've..." he trailed off, unsure.

"You've what?" Mike asked, busying himself with scraping off a plate, so that Kevin wouldn't feel trapped.

"I've never needed things before.  I've just been given things, or not, and I've made do."

Mike couldn't help himself.  "How bad?" he asked, giving up on the dish to face Kevin.  "How bad has it been?"

Kevin shrugged, placing the cups in the washer with extreme care.  "We're trained not to label things good or bad.  Things please our master, or they don't."

Mike sucked in a breath, unsure whether pressing now would make things better or worse.

Kevin braced himself on the edge of the counter.  "But..."  his hand came up to rub his own shoulder, fingers teasing the edge of where Mike knew the scars from the whipping ended.  "Yeah.  Sometimes it was bad."  He swallowed, hard, and looked up, the mask of pleased subservience on his face.  "But sometimes it wasn't."

Mike nodded.  "I wish I could promise you it will never be bad again," he blurted.

Kevin smiled, smaller but more real.  "This too shall pass," he said, like he was quoting something.  The moment stretched between them, thick and heavy.  Kevin blinked first.  "I'll start training Daisy in the morning, unless you have other chores you'd rather me do first."

Mike's throat felt dry and raw.  "No, that's fine.  Goodnight."  He beat a hasty retreat, leaving the boy and his dog standing motionless in the galley.

 

 

 

 

 

Daisy was just about the smartest dog Kevin had ever known. He hadn't known many dogs, most of his masters either hadn't had any, or hadn't wanted him near them. Still, Kevin was pretty sure that Daisy was the _smartest_. She could sit and she didn't bark or get scared, and she was sweet and friendly, despite the fact that he could see scars from injuries and fights around her muzzle and back. Kevin wasn't too sure just what sort of things he ought to train a dog to do, but he figured you couldn't go wrong with 'play dead'. It was a skill he was pretty good at himself, and sometimes it helped when things got bad.  
   
Daisy wasn't very good at that, and by the time the Butcher came to find him, the training session had degenerated into an energetic game of fetch. Kevin couldn't remember ever having laughed so hard.  
   
The Butcher had brought scraps of food and bones for Daisy to use as training rewards, and he cracked up when he saw the form Kevin's training had taken. "I don't think she needs bribes to play fetch," he said dryly, still chuckling.  
   
Kevin smiled at him, breathless and flushed from laughing and chasing the foolish dog around the holding area. He took the offered treats and said, "She's not very good at lying still."

The Butcher grinned. "I used to have a pet chicken," he said. "She was awesome. Sisky wanted to eat her.'  
   
Kevin looked horrified. "He won't eat-- Daisy won't-- what if--"  
   
"Wow, no," the Butcher said quickly. "No one's going to eat your dog."  
   
"She's not _my_ dog," Kevin said, flushing. "Mike just wants me to train her for him."  
   
"Sure, kid." The Butcher was grinning again.  
   
That's when Mike came in, and he glanced at the Butcher and then Kevin and scowled. "Don't you have a galley to oversee?" he snapped at the Butcher, who laughed, saluted lazily, and ducked out of the room.

Mike relaxed against a bulkhead as Butcher disappeared.  "How's the training coming?"

Kevin rubbed Daisy's belly so he wouldn't have to look at Mike.  To do so he had to kneel, but it wasn't the kind of kneeling that made Mike unhappy with him.  Mike frowned anyway, like he was on to Kevin's tricks.  "Slowly.  She won't play dead, but she'll play fetch."

Mike produced a piece of knotted rope.  "I, uhh, I mean it was pretty boring waiting for Sisky to tell me which buttons to press to test his engine patch, so I made her this.  It's called a monkey's fist."  He took one end and began to swing it in a low, lazy circle.  Daisy immediately rolled over and hunkered down on her paws, her eyes transfixed by the swinging rope.  Mike let it fly so the momentum of the swing sent it soaring to the far end of the hold.  Daisy took off, her claws scrabbling for traction on the metal plates.  Mike laughed as Daisy yipped once and dove between the tied down crates and pallets in search of her new toy.  She bobbed up a moment later, the ropework clutched triumphantly in her mouth. "Yeah, I can see she's got fetch down."

Kevin couldn't help but feel a little pride, cooing over Daisy as she brought the rope to him and not to Mike.  "Who's a good girl," he told her, beaming when she wagged her tail excitedly.  Mike patted his shoulder, and Kevin almost leapt - he had forgotten to pay attention to his master!  But Mike just nodded, and Kevin tried to calm down by reminding himself that Mike had given him responsibility for Daisy, so it was good that he was paying attention to the dog.  "Lunch in half an hour, make sure you wash up."  He left them without another word.  Daisy nosed the rope hanging from Kevin's fist, and he forced himself back into her training.

When he came into the galley, Daisy obediently trotting at his heel, he saw with horror he was the last one to arrive.  But no-one scolded him; they just bunched up to make room.  Kevin quietly took some food, forcing himself to take two sandwiches rather than just one; he'd hate to have a repeat of his first day on the ship, not now Mike seemed to have stopped actively hating him.  He was learning what his new master wanted, and if he wanted Kevin to eat and play with a puppy, Kevin wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that.

Mike nodded approvingly as Kevin sat down, and Kevin felt a warm flush of pride.

 

 

 

Mike woke suddenly that night, frowning up into the darkness and unable to figure out what had woken him. There were no noises at all, nothing had changed in the movement of the ship. Still, there was something-- he sat up carefully and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he stared. Somehow, Kevin had slipped into his room in the night, curled up on the floor by his bed, and gone to sleep.  
   
Mike stared, trying to comprehend how that had happened without him hearing it, as well as why. Slowly, he leaned down. "Kevin. Kevin, hey."  
   
Kevin jerked awake instantly. He was probably trained to do that.  He sat up, pale and trying to hide how disoriented and sleepy he was. "Master? Did you need something?"

"Mike," he corrected patiently, because Kevin was still mostly asleep. "You're sleeping on my floor."  
   
Kevin blinked and looked around. Daisy was there too, Mike saw now, contentedly sleeping curled up next to Kevin. "Oh," Kevin said, frowning a little. "Yes. I am. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I just..." he swallowed hard and ducked his head. "I shouldn't have--"

"Hey," Mike said, reaching out and tugging lightly on his hair, drawing Kevin's attention back to him. "Is this some slave thing? Because I thought--"  
   
"Bad dream," Kevin confessed hoarsely. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I just got scared and I sleep better with you--"  
   
"Okay. Hey, it's okay. I'm glad you--" He didn't know how to finish that. Feel like you can come to me? Didn't go to Butcher? Feel safe with me? "C'mere."  
   
Kevin looked uncertain, but he let Mike pull him up off the floor and into bed with him. "Might as well be comfortable," Mike said, gruff and casual, like he hadn't just made a really stupid decision, like William wasn't going to kill him in the morning.  
   
Kevin was tense  and Mike couldn't figure out why, until a moment later, his hand slipped over under the covers, to Mike's hip. "Okay," Kevin said softly. "I can-- if you'll just tell me how you like it. I'm good at it."  
   
Mike's breath caught, startled, and then he gently took Kevin's hand and pulled it away. "No," he said gently. "Just sleep, Kevin. That's all, I promise."

"But I'm meant to please you," Kevin whispered, sounding small and lost.  
   
"You do please me," Mike said, gruff again. "When you act like yourself and not a robot. When you sleep without nightmares. It's fine, Kevin. Just go to sleep. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."  
   
"Oh." Kevin relaxed, so exhausted that he nearly instantly fell asleep. He mumbled, "But what if I want to?"  
   
Mike didn't know how to reply and Kevin was asleep before he thought of something. A moment later, Daisy lept up onto the bed and snuggled next to Kevin. Mike didn't have the heart to kick her off the bed, and he wondered in despair when he'd started going soft.  
   
He fell asleep curled up against Kevin's side, Daisy snuggling up against Kevin's other side, and Kevin didn't have anymore nightmares that night.

 

 

 

 

Mike woke slowly, groggy and disorientated for the second time.  He smiled as his sleepy senses registered that Kevin was curled up into him, face buried in Mike's side, their bodies touching all the way down to where Daisy was half-draped over their tangled feet.  There was no tension in Kevin's body, and Mike realized he hadn't noticed how much tension Kevin carried until it was gone.

But that wasn't what woke him.  Mike lifted his eyes to see William and Butcher glaring down at them.  Mike glared back and dared them to say a word.

Something in Mike's body must have changed, because Kevin shifted and stirred.  At the foot of the bed, Daisy raised her head, whining happily as she recognized Butcher.  As she slid off the bed and nuzzled at Butcher's hand, looking for treats, Kevin's eyes opened, and he propped himself up on one arm.  "Morning, sir," he said softly, leaning forward a little.  His gaze locked with Mike's and he froze, turning to crane up at William and Butcher.  "You are required," he said softly, his voice falling into the cadences he was trained to use.  "I will return to my room until you require me."  He slid out from under the covers and, with a nod of greeting at Butcher and William, padded over to the door, Daisy falling into step with him.

William barely waited for the door to seal before he was whirling on Mike.  "You know, when neither of you showed for breakfast, we figured there must be some innocent explanation, but..." he looked honestly disgusted.  "Fuck, Mike, he's a slave!"

Butcher, however, was looking more thoughtful, and he put his hand on William's arm.  "He was still in his pajamas, Bill," he said.  He looked to Mike.  "So, come on.  What happened?"

Mike sat up, grateful he was still in his boxers.  "He had a nightmare, another one," he stuttered out.  "And he freaked and came to me."  In a few brief phrases, he recapped what had happened the previous night.

William still didn't look happy, but at least he had lost the aura of impending doom.  "So you let him sleep with you?  You really think that's smart, Mike?"

Mike shrugged.  Smart?  Quite possibly not, but it had felt like the right thing to do.

Butcher nodded, like he could hear what Mike was thinking.  "Just be careful, okay," he said cryptically, before towing William out of the room.

Mike scrubbed his face with his hands, still feeling sleepy and out of sorts.  No doubt the gossip wheel would have already spread seven versions of the story.  He really wasn't in the mood to face that right now, even to get a cup of coffee.

He used the tiny head that was attached to the Captain's quarters and slumped in his chair.  On an impulse, he flicked on his monitor; probably time to start looking for their next job, catch up on some more of the eternal backlog of paperwork.

Mike's eyes blearily scanned the lists on the overnight download.  He froze, eyes narrowing, as one message marked with an Important! Official! stamp caught his attention.

He clicked it open and swore under his breath.  It was from the central slave registry.

**New Slave Owners Satisfaction Survey: Are you satisfied with your new slave?**

He scrolled down the questions, suddenly glad he hadn't eaten yet as his stomach lurched.

At first, Mike wasn't going to answer it-- fuck them if they thought he was going to waste his time with their bureaucratic nonsense. But the longer the questions stared at him from the screen, the more pissed off he got, and before he'd quite thought it through, Mike was answering every one with exactly what he thought of the entire system and how fucked up and dissatisfied he was with it.

He was so pissed off by the whole thing that he didn't even hear the soft hiss of the hatch opening, or the very soft knock that preceded it.

"Oh," Kevin said, and Mike spun around, equally startled. "You're-- that's-- Paperwork," he said, stuttering, before visibly pulling himself together and smiling, though it looked forced. "I came to see if you had need of me, but I can see you're busy, and I--" He glanced behind Mike at the screen and Mike wondered if he recognized the letterhead. Probably.

"You can stay," Mike said, turning back to the survey. "I'm just telling them how fucking unsatisfactory I find this."

Kevin paled, and his head dipped, and before Mike could stop him, he was folding into a perfect standing submissive posture.  "Please sir," he begged.  "I am trying.  I am sorry if I presumed, coming to you last night, I just..."

"Hey," Mike snapped, cutting him off.  "No." He caught Kevin's chin and tilted his face up, by Kevin kept his eyes resolutely downcast.  "Okay, I've missed something here.   Sit," he ordered, pointing to the bed.

Kevin dropped to the edge of the mattress, hands folded, eyes still on the decking.

Mike sat back down in his chair.  "Explain."  Kevin hesitated, and Mike resisted the urge to curse him out.  "Kevin, I know nothing about the slave trade system.  Why is this form so important?"

"It's your report of me, sir."   When Mike made an encouraging noise, he continued.  "A good report keeps my value high.  A bad report lowers my value."

Mike sighed.  "Kevin, I thought we'd been over this.  Only you determine your worth."

Kevin looked up at that, and smiled sadly.  "I'm a slave, sir.  My value is determined at auction.  I have always received good report, and I am trained, so my value is high.  When I am put on the block, it is always at reserve.  But if I receive a bad report, my value lowers and I go into the general auction."  He took a deep breath.  "Prices are lower, so the people who buy there are those who do not wish to spend much on a slave."

Mike was about to make a glib comment when he froze.  Something in the way Kevin had tonelessly described the system of rankings and auctions made him pause.  Despite himself, he found himself thinking of horse auctions; the best steeds were sold separately, to elite clients who wanted them for racing or breeding.  But for those looking for an old nag to pull a cart, they just bought the cheapest they could get away with.

Mike felt sick to his bones.  "So if I sent in a scathing report?"

Kevin breathed in through his nose, like he was steeling himself.  "Then the next time I went to auction, I would not be sold in the reserve pool.  I might not even be bought to serve a single master, but instead be part of a batch sent to mine, or labour instead."

Mike span his chair around and hit 'delete' on the file.

After his answers were gone, Mike stared at the questions, trying to control his breathing and his fury. After a long moment, he said, "You won't _be_ sold at auction." His voice was tightly controlled, a little bit growly. "Do you understand me?"  
   
"I-- yes, sir." Kevin hesitated, and Mike could hear his uncertainty. "There are other ways to sell a slave, which you would not be familiar with, being unfamiliar with the system. I could explain, if you wish it, I--"  
   
Mike turned back around, eyes narrowed, and said, "You aren't listening, I want you to listen to me."  
   
Something in Kevin seemed to snap, despite all his training, all his reserve, and he almost cried, "I am trying, I really am, but it isn't making any sense!" His eyes were shining sharply with tears and he looked pale, desperate.  
   
"Do you want me to sell you?" Mike snapped, not realizing that it sounded almost like a threat.  
   
Kevin shook his head wildly. "No, sir, no, it's-- I mean, if you wish it-- I mean..." He closed his eyes and said desperately, "I have no opinion on the matter, of course, sir. But-- but I swear I'll try harder to understand what you want from me, I just--"  
   
"I want to know what you want," Mike said, straining for patience. "Do you want to stay here?"  
   
Kevin's bottom lip trembled and he looked almost like a cornered animal. "Yes," he confessed hoarsely. "Yes, sir. I want to stay."  
   
"Then you'll stay. Until you want to leave. Understood?"  
   
Kevin grimaced a little and said, "Yes, sir," but he didn't sound sure at all.  
   
"The-- the private methods of sale," Mike asked, pretty sure he didn't want to know. "What did you mean by that?"  
   
"There are certain houses, on certain planets, as well as certain ships who pay for high quality slaves who have been trained as I have been." He took a deep breath and ducked his head and said, "I'm told we make good bedroom slaves."  
   
Yeah. Mike hadn't wanted to know. "But you haven't ever been... sold to one of those?"  
   
"No," Kevin said softly. "My littler brothers were much prettier than I am."  His head was ducked so Mike couldn't see his expression but he felt pretty sick without having to see it.

Mike wished they'd never started, but now he had to see it through to the end.  "Is that where your brothers went?" he asked softly.

Kevin took a deep breath.  "I once briefly saw my brother Joe at an auction.  Our masters were both there to buy new slaves.  We...were able to talk briefly.  Nick, our third brother, he was sold to a specialist collector."  He looked up and smiled weakly and without humour.  "He has a special talent for music, which means he fetches a very high price.  My youngest brother, Frankie, was last at the training house that I heard, but he is of an age that he will be first auctioned soon, if it hasn't happened already."

Mike reached over and took Kevin's hands; nothing could have stopped him from reaching out to this boy at that moment.  "Have you spoken or heard from your brothers since?"

Kevin shook his head.  "A slave is not meant to know their family at all, we are meant to be loyal to our training house, and then our master," he whispered.

Mike leaned in.  "But you know."  He waited until Kevin looked up, his face a picture of misery.  Mike smiled.  "So you do break the rules.  That's good to know."

Kevin took another deep breath, getting himself under control.  "They will be expecting you to return the form," Kevin said, pulling back in every sense of the word.

Mike sighed.  "Well, help me fill it out.  But know it will be the last report that will ever be filed for you by a new master, so make it a good one."

Mike was under the impression that Kevin was too modest in his quiet suggestions for answers to the questions, so he didn't quite go with his suggestions, but they got through the awkward process eventually, and then he suggested that maybe Kevin might want to take some time to himself... Read, sleep, relax, get his balance back-- something.  
   
Kevin still looked haunted as he left, and Mike waited until he was out of the room before going back to the registry, reading over it again for some key information, making some notes, and stalking up to the bridge.  
   
"Emergency meeting, bridge, five minutes," he barked into the comms that would go directly to his crew, except for Kevin. He spent the five minutes consulting navigational charts and routes, thinking up any potentially helpful contacts, and when the rest of the crew filtered in, he had maps and charts spread out over the table.  
   
"New job?" William asked, taking his usual chair.  
   
"Sort of," Mike said grimly. "We're going to rescue Kevin's brothers."

There was stunned silence. "Okay," William said.

Mike looked up. "No arguments?"

Butcher shook his head. "Get the kid relaxed enough for five minutes to talk and its as clear as day he's missing his brothers like an ache."

Mike nodded curtly, trying to convey his thanks without ruining the last shreds of his street cred. "We're in luck, in one regard. Looks like Joe, the next brother, has been sold to the same family who have Nick, the third one."

Sisky looked up. "How many brothers does this kid have?"

"One more," Mike tells him, calling up the registry. "And he's due to be auctioned for the first time at the end of the month."

William's looking at the charts, shaking his head. "Mike, the training house auction and the manor where the other two are are at opposite sides of the map. By the time we get to the auction and back again, who knows where the other two might be."

Mike nodded, swallowing hard. "Think Gabe'll be up to go buy us a slave at auction?"

"I'll deal with Gabe," William said. "The route to the manor is easy enough. How the fuck are you gonna get the two of them out of there, though? We don't have the funds to buy them, and I don't need to remind you that theft of a slave is a capital offence. And what are we going to do with them once we have them?"  
   
"Keep them," Sisky said.  
   
"They aren't puppies! I won't argue with you," William said. "I just. We need to think it through. Gabe... Can probably help." He looked at them defiantly and confessed, "Not everything he's involved with is strictly... legal."  
   
"Okay. Get him onboard, ask for his help," Mike said. "We'll take care of them. All of them."  
   
"What are you gonna tell Kevin?" Butcher asked quietly.  
   
Mike shook his head.  "Tell him nothing til it's a done deal.  I won't get his hopes up just to shatter them again."  Besides, he didn't want to tell Kevin and then not deliver just in case Kevin took it as a sign of manipulation.  He was starting to become familiar with how thoughts got twisted in that kid's head.

Not telling Kevin was easier said than done, though.  Everyone was suddenly busy, and the best they could do was fob off Kevin with vague statements.  They all noticed how he frequently retreated below decks with Daisy, his face drawn and blank.

Mike hoped like fuck they could pull this off.


	4. Chapter 4

Mike didn't know it, but Kevin had alphabetized the little library. He'd also taught Daisy seven tricks, scrubbed the hold when no one was looking, and had taken to sneaking into Mike's room to steal his clothes and stitch up whatever needed fixing. He'd begun avoiding the galley, since Butcher was more likely to kick him out than to require his assistance, and the awkwardness was worrying him.  
   
He began to suspiciously watch everyone, and their behaviour and inability to tell him what was going on had Kevin pretty convinced that it was something bad. Maybe Mike had decided to sell him after all.

Kevin tried not to cry as he packed up the things they had given him, and put them in drawers and shelves in the passenger dorm.  He'd figured out from the cryptic conversations that they were approaching a planet, and the name rang a bell for Kevin; he'd maybe heard past masters talk about it approvingly?  A perfect place for a private sale.

Somehow, he couldn't believe that Mike would go back so thoroughly as to send him to an auction house, but a private sale, quick and quiet, that Kevin could believe.  His uniform felt strange and stiff as he tugged in on and prepared himself to leave the _Santi_ to go to his new masters.

From her clandestine bed in the corner of the room, Daisy whining in confusion.  Kevin dropped to one knee and hugged the dog fiercely - Daisy was Mike's dog, and he was merely tasked with training her.  Perhaps he could get that on his report, and a future master may also allow him to work with animals?  Kevin tried to keep his mind moving so he wouldn't curl up around her warm furry body and weep.

He forced himself to let go of her, and crossed over to the narrow basin in the corner of the room.  His eyes were red, and he scolded himself for getting so emotional.  He normally didn't cry before a sale; he normally didn't feel much of anything.

The ship landed and Kevin sat quietly on the floor beside Daisy, waiting for someone to come and fetch him. for the first time, his collar felt itchy and uncomfortable.  
   
No one came. The ship was quiet and still, settling into the feeling of gravity again. Eventually, Kevin went in search of someone-- anyone-- to tell him what was happening.  
   
The ship's engines were humming softly on standby, Sisky wasn't in the engine room, Butcher wasn't in the kitchen, Michael Guy wasn't doing whatever Michael Guy did, and Mike was gone too.  
   
They had left him behind. They'd gone off to make the sale without even bringing him along. That was not a good sign at all, since it implied that wherever they were leaving him, his new owner wouldn't care to look him over first. A low-value sale after all.  
   
His eyes grew wide and he went back to his room, trembling. Or maybe they were gone to escort the buyer onto the ship, to look him over in private, because he was being purchased for more discrete tasks.  
   
He felt kind of sick and it was second nature this time to ignore the dog that wasn't his, and instead drop to his knees, fold over, and hold himself in submissive pose. It was almost comforting, pretending he hadn't ever started to believe he was worth anything more.

 

 

 

 

Mike stomped down the ramp, trying to ignore the sweet fragrance of flowers on the wind.  The rest of the crew followed quietly as Mike led them to the gates of the imposing mansion that was the listed address for Nick and Joe.

William stepped up to Mike's side.  "You have a plan?"

Mike grit his teeth and nodded.  "Yeah.  Ask nicely."  Before he could talk himself out of it, he rang the bell.

A security agent looked them over, his hand flying to his earpiece as he was given instructions from deep inside the house.  "State your business," he said gruffly.

"We've come to talk to to Mr Wentz regarding some slaves of his?" Mike said, choking over the words.

The guards eyes narrowed, but the voice in his earpiece forestalled any comment.  They were shown into a quiet courtyard and left there.  Behind him, Mike sensed his crew fanning out, covering all exits.

The door the guard vanished through opened again, and...it had to be Joe -- but the photo in his file didn't do him justice.  He was tanned and relaxed, smiling.

But the thing Mike noticed first was that he wasn't wearing a collar.

Mike only had a few seconds to stare at Joe before someone-- presumably Mr Wentz, came into the room, smiling too widely to be strictly polite.  
   
"I wasn't expecting visitors, Mr--" he said.

"Carden. It isn't really a social call," he said, shifting on his feet. He darted another quick look at Joe, and then forged on. "We were actually here about Nick and Joe."  
   
Mr Wentz frowned and said pleasantly, "Is this an official visit? You don't look like the authorities."  
   
"Uh, no. Mr Wentz, we--''  
   
"Call me Pete." Another terrifying smile.  
   
"We--"  
   
Michael Guy took out a guy, cocked it, and pointed it at Pete's face. "They're coming with us," he said.

Pete stared at the gun, then brayed with laughter.  Mike batted down the gun.  Pete was staring at him, still laughing.  "If that was loaded, you'd be in a world of trouble right now."  He turned back to Mike.  "Wanna try again?"

Mike glared at his crew for a second before stepping closer to Pete, dropping his voice.  "Listen.  Joe and Nick, we'd like..."

Pete was still smiling with his mouth, but his eyes were hard.  "They are not for sale, at any price."

Mike grimaced.  "Please," he said.

Pete studied him for a long minute.  "You know them by name," he said quietly, no trace of the braying laughter from seconds ago.  "You're desperate enough to commit a capital offense for them."  His eyes hardened.  "Jerking off to the fucking slaves registry and they caught your eye," he spat, half turning to move away.

Mike played his last desperate card.  "Their brother is on my ship," he blurted out.  

Joe froze.  So did Pete, but he recovered more smoothly.  "And?"

Mike swallowed hard.  "Listen, you own slaves, so I guess you won't care, but I hate the whole idea.  Kevin may have come with his stupid collar and his damn fool ideas about what he's meant to do in the world, but underneath that, all I can see if a member of my crew who is missing his family.  And I want to fix that."

Pete and Joe shared a look, but it wasn't a look between master and servant.  Mike watched them cautiously.  "Joe and Nick don't leave," Pete said flatly.  "But," he smiled suddenly, rapier-sharp.  "You crew, including Kevin, if he truly is part of your crew, are invited to dine with us this evening."  He turned, paused, and glanced over his shoulder.  "And a word to the wise.  Leave the toys at home this time?"

Then they both were gone, and the guard was back.

Mike led the way back to the ship in silence.  A small part of him was starting to wonder if, by giving Kevin back his family, he was going to have to end up giving over Kevin himself.

He tried not to think about how bad that thought hurt.

"Idiot," Butcher hissed, smacking Michael in the back of the head.  
   
They made it back to the ship relatively unscathed and Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, wistfully wishing Kevin could give him another massage. Instead, he said softly to Butcher, "Maybe you should tell him. You two are close."  
   
Butcher stared at him. "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "The kid practically worships the ground you walk on. You haven't done anything wrong, you've found his brothers. The only thing you need to worry about is whether this is all gonna go south. Are you sure you want to tell him?"  
   
"It's that, or lead him into that fucking house with no idea," Mike said. He frowned, confused, when Daisy wandered up from the galley, looking lost. The stupid dog was _always_ with Kevin. A sudden thought made him freeze. "He wouldn't have run away , right?" It had been, after all, the first time they'd left him alone in the ship while it was docked.

Everyone else was staring at that dumb dog.  Daisy sat, tilted her head, whined, and held out her paw to be shook.  Mike pushed past her, running up, past the infirmary and its nook -- no Kevin.  He bolted up the stairs, and almost ran past the passenger dorm.  The door was half-ajar, and he skidded to a halt and peeked through.

Kevin was on his knees.  Mike eased open the door.  His first impulse was to sweep down on him, but Kevin was almost shaking with tension.   Mike realized that Kevin had put on his stupid slaves uniform again, and a horrible thought dawned on him.  "Kevin?" he asked.

Kevin stiffened slightly, but did not move from the posture.  Mike closed the door and came around to kneel in front on his, knees touching.  Mike took one of Kevin's hands, and gently tilted his face up with the other.  This close, Mike could tell Kevin had been crying, though his cheeks were dry now.  Kevin's eyes flickered up for a brief moment.  "Is it time for me to go with my new master now, sir?"

Mike felt like he'd been stabbed.  "Kevin.  How many times must I tell you?  I'm not selling you!"

Kevin lifted his head.  "I know where we are.  Lots of the landowners here own slaves.  I am grateful you attempted to find the highest bidder for me.  I have left all the things you gave me in the drawers, and Daisy has been fed and groomed for you, so if you tell me where, I shall go now."

Kevin looked up, through his lashes as he bit his lip uncertainly.  Mike gave in to the pressure in his chest, wrapped the hand that was on his chin around the back of Kevin's neck, pulled him in until they were leaning, forehead to forehead, noses barely touching.  "If you want to go, I won't stop you.  But I don't want you to go," Mike admitted.

Kevin's breathing stuttered.  "Then why did you change course to bring us here?"

Mike took a deep breath.  "Because this is where Joe and Nick ended up.   I came to see if I could talk their current master into letting them come aboard the _Santi_."

Kevin's eyes widened, and he leaned in and kissed Mike on the mouth.  He broke the contact a second later.  "I'm sorry, I didn't, I just..."  he was almost panting as the emotion bubbled out of him.  "They're here?  They're coming?"

Mike winced, a little shocked by that kiss.  "I don't know yet.  Their current...master," he said, the words tasting sour on his tongue.  "Knows you're here.  And I saw Joe, briefly.  They've invited all of us to dinner this evening."  

Kevin's smile was like a sunrise seen from orbit, blinding in its intensity.  "I can see them?"

Mike nodded, and eased himself upright.  "Tonight.  But do me a favour, and wear your clothes, not that uniform.  I have a feeling Wentz, their master, wouldn't appreciate it."

Kevin nodded frantically, turning at the sound of claws scrabbling on the door.  Mike let Daisy in as he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

The rest of the crew were gathered in the galley.  "We're going to dinner tonight, so dress fancy," he told them, and went off to have a shower.  Some unacknowledged impulse was telling him they needed to make a good impression.

 

 

 

Kevin hung close to the middle of the group as they waited at the gate. He would rather stay close to Mike, but Mike was leading the way, and Kevin kind of needed the security of hiding behind the others. He hung close to Butcher instead, and relaxed instantly when Butcher slung a friendly arm around his shoulders.  
   
"Relax," he said softly, kissing Kevin's temple. "We'll take care of you.'  
   
Kevin beamed at him and Mike snapped, "Butcher, c'mere."  
   
Laughing quietly under his breath, Butcher grinned at Kevin and let him go, moving to stand nearer to Mike. "Yes, Captain?" he asked sweetly, but before Mike could say anything, a guard was opening the gate, and Kevin was all nervous again.  
   
This time, it was William who smiled at him and walked beside him as they went up to the huge, intimidating house. A man-- it must have been Pete-- met them at the door, stared at Kevin thoughtfully, and then at his collar. He nodded once at Mike and then said, "Follow me."  
   
They did, through a maze of hallways. Even the others seemed nervous, all dressed up as they were. Still, Kevin was sure they couldn't have been as nervous as he was.  
   
He heard the soft music of a piano before they arrived at the salon, and when they stepped inside, he just stared. Nick sat at the piano, playing something for Joe, who stood nearby and watched, smirking when Nick messed up the notes. They hadn't heard the others arrive at all, and Kevin felt like he couldn't breathe at all, let alone speak.  
   
They weren't wearing their collars, and his suddenly felt impossibly tight.

Pete touched Kevin's shoulder, gently propelling him forward out of the safety of the group.  "Boys, visitor."

Joe and Nick turned.  Kevin was well aware their master was right there, but instead of a demure, proper greeting, Joe and Nick flung themselves at him, almost bearing him to the floor as they hugged him stupid.

Something in Kevin broke, and he burst out laughing as he hugged them back.  He caught sight of their master watching with amusement, Mike with mild concern, as Joe and Nick tugged him to his feet and dragged him over to sit at the piano without so much as a by your leave.

Back at the door, Pete nodded approvingly.  "Do you gentlemen drink?  Of course you do, you're spacers.  Come on, my wife is hosting pre-dinner refreshment in the drawing room."  Mike glanced back at the little knot around the piano.  "They'll be fine.  Come along."

Mike went slowly, the last to leave the room.  He glanced back one last time, but Kevin didn't even look up.  He was too busy smiling a Joe, one arm possessively around Nick's skinny shoulders.

Mike needed a drink. He was pretty sure that nothing Pete had would be strong enough.  
 

 

 

"It was an accident," he said, when asked how he'd come to be Kevin's owner. "I won him in a poker game, I was drunk, I didn't even know." He frowned and refilled his glass, his hands shaking.  
   
Pete made some comment-- Mike wasn't even listening. He was going to get drunk out of his mind so it didn't hurt when he had to crawl back to his spaceship and leave Kevin behind. Soon enough, the conversation turned to something else and he slumped in his chair, draining his glass.  
   
"Mike," William said quietly. "You alright?"  
   
"Mmhmm," Mike mumbled. He was already feeling a little lightheaded and wondered what exactly Pete had given him to drink. He poured another glass and said, "Hey, Bill, Kevin kissed me." He raised the glass in a toast, downed it, and then noticed the silence. Everyone was staring at him.  
   
"You-- you and Kevin," Pete's wife, Ashley, said slowly. "You do know that anything he did with you was out of a sense of duty, because he felt he had to."  Her voice had gone ice cold.  
   
"No," Mike argued, except maybe she was right. William carefully took his glass away.

Mike watched it go, then slumped.  "Yes," he amended.  "I didn't ask him to, he just did it.  And then I left."  He looked over at Pete.  "Joe and Nick don't wear their collars?"

Pete nodded, face unreadable.  "I don't require it.  I prefer they didn't."

Mike felt like saying the words was worse than pulling teeth.  "Good.  I tried to get Kevin to take his off, and he freaked out.  Maybe...maybe you'll have better luck.  Will you take him in, let him be with his brothers?"

He thought before was quiet, but now the room was _silent_.  "I can pay you..." Pete began softly.

Mike waved him off.  "No!" he said more sharply than he intended.  "I told Kevin I wouldn't sell him, and I've been trying to tell him he's worth more than a dollar amount.  And I meant what I said."  The alcohol was already going sour in his empty belly.  "I just want him to be happy.  If I can't get him to stop being a slave, maybe I can set him up so he can be one with his brothers."

He was aware that there were significant looks being passed around the room.  "Mike," Pete said, putting aside his glass and leaning forward.  "Joe and Nick aren't slaves.  They work here, yes, and if you're being unkindly accurate, they might be thought part of the staff.  But they have rights.  They're not slaves here.  They stay because they want to."

That more than anything cut like a knife.  But he managed to keep it together.  "Then will you _hire_ Kevin.  If I know anything, he's missed his family."

Pete nodded again, more slowly.  "But Mike," he said gently.  "It's not up to you to decide that.  If you meant what you said, then that's Kevin's choice."

"Of course it's his choice," Mike snapped. "But you honestly think he won't choose this?" He rolled his eyes and said, "You'd better let him keep the fucking dog. Fuck knows I don't want it."  
   
It was quiet again, and then Ashlee said, "So long as he gets along with Hemmy, I guess another dog wouldn't be a bad thing." She was smiling a little.  
   
"You're lucky," Mike said, slumping again. "He's worth more than having to put up with a dog. Even the dog's awesome. Fuck this. I'm not hungry." He smiled sharply, staggered to his feet, bowed, and said, "I'm going to wait in the ship."  
   
"Mike," William said, reaching for his arm.

Mike jerked away, shook his head, and said, "Better this way. I don't _care_ , I just-- I need to check in with Gabe, see if it went okay with Frankie."  
   
He ducked out of the room quickly.

Just before the door closed, he heard Ashlee ask "Frankie?"  Then the door closed and he stormed out through the elegant, graceful corridors and gardens.

Kevin would fit here.  He was all grace and class, and Mike was engine grease and swearing.  He tried to tell himself that all the way back to the ship.

 

 

 

 

In the music room, Kevin couldn't keep his hands off his brothers.  "You've grown so much," he said in awe.  His brothers looked healthy and tanned, unstressed and _happy_.  "Though you're skinny, Nick!" he laughed.

Nick shrugged.  "I got sick," he said without rancor.

Kevin froze.  Sick slaves usually didn't last long.  All slaves had heard stories of sick slaves being dumped out of airlocks, or drowned in bathtubs.  They were property; at worst it was littering.  "What do you mean?"

Joe poked Nick's shoulders.  "He has to have injections every day," Joe teased.  "And he can't eat dessert, or sweet drinks."

Kevin stared in horror.  Nick shrugged.  "It's okay.  I'm used to the needles now."

Kevin hugged him tightly.  "And your master and mistress?  They allow you to be treated?"

Joe and Nick stared at him in horror.  "Of course," Joe said defensively.  "That creepy fucker who came in with you, he wouldn't?"

"And does he make you wear this everywhere?" Nick added, fingering the collar around Kevin's neck.

Kevin flinched back, and his brothers' eyes narrowed.  "Say the word," Joe said, low and angry.  "And we'll kidnap you and talk Pete into giving you a job on the estate, it'd be awesome, and around here, nobody fucks with Pete.  If that guy cried theft to the local magistrate, he'd discover he's Pete's father-in-law."  He rubbed his hands together in wicked glee.  "Just say the word, brother."

Kevin stood up, shaking his head.  "No," he said, trembling, feeling the unfamiliar tendrils of anger build inside him.  "Mike's not like that, he hates I wear my collar, but..." he looked at his brothers, so relaxed and happy.  "Where's Mike, I want to see Mike," he demanded, trying to ignore their brother's crestfallen looks.

Joe shook his head.  "Kevin, he's not worth you."

"Worth?" Kevin whispered.  He panicked, turned, and ran.

 

 

 

 

Daisy was flopped on the floor by the main hatch, looking rejected and lonely. She flopped her tail despondently at him and Mike scowled at her. "He's not coming back," he said. "Get out. Go find him." He tried to shoo her off the ship but she just stared at him, confused, and eventually, he gave up wearily. "He's gone," he mumbled, no longer sure if he was talking to the dog, or to himself. "Get over it." He leaned against the wall and side down it, sitting with his back pressed to it, knees pulled up. Daisy came to sit by his side, restong her head on his knees with a little sigh. Mike wrapped an arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck and breathed for a moment.  
   
It was so stupid, he was so stupid. He didn't care about any of this, he was _glad_ Kevin would be staying here, off his ship. No more awkwardness, no more having to share his bed when Kevin had a nightmare, no more guarding his words and being careful, no more crew members thinking he was a monster...  
   
Daisy licked his arm and Mike scowled but hugged her more tightly. He didn't care, not even a little.  
 

 

 

 

It didn't take Kevin long to find the others, sitting in the salon and drinking together, looking awkward. When he burst into the room, they look startled, and he started stammering out some apology, started bowing into his submissive pose, backing from the room, but Butcher grabbed his elbow.  
   
"Hey, hey, it's alright," he said soothingly. "What is it?"  
   
"Mike," Kevin said, suddenly realizing Mike wasn't there at all. His eyes widened with more panic. "Where is he, where's Mike? Nothing is making sense and I need-- he didn't leave, he _promised_ he wasn't getting rid of me, he said I was worth-- where _is_ he?"

Butcher glanced at William.  "He had to go back to the ship," William said calmly.  "That's all."

Kevin nodded, started stammering excuses to leave, and gave up.  He turned and fled.

Behind him, Ashlee raised an eyebrow.  "I may have to withdraw my previous comment," she said to the room at large.

 

 

 

 

No one tried to stop Kevin as he raced out of the compound and down unfamiliar streets to where he was sure the _Santi_ was docked.  The few people he passed looked at him; no, looked at the _collar_ , he realized, but he didn't care.  He was breathing hard by the time he rounded the corner of the dockyards.  He whispered a quiet, heartfelt thank you when he saw the reassuring bulk of the _Santi_ , still in her berth.

Kevin slowed as he approached the gangway - would Mike be mad he came back?

 


	5. Chapter 5

Mike hadn't moved, and parts of him were going numb, sitting on the deck.  But Daisy seemed happy to let him hang off her, occasionally licking his hand. He stroked her fur.  "Good dog," he murmured.

Daisy lifted her head, but she wasn't looking at him.  She was looking down the gangway.  Her tail started to wag.

Mike rose awkwardly, wincing at the pins and needles in his feet as circulation was restored.  Grabbing hold of one of Sisky's spanners, he peered out into the evening gloom.

Daisy barked once, joyfully, and raced out into the night.  "Dammit, Daisy," he yelled after her.

"It's 'heel,' to call her back," came a quiet voice that Mike thought he'd never hear again.

"Kevin?" he asked, dropping the spanner.  Kevin came into the light meekly, head half-bowed.  Mike stared at him.  "I thought you'd be with your brothers?"

Kevin licked his lips.  "They're not slaves," he said.  "They're not, and I still am, and..." he bit his lip and looked up, properly at Kevin.  "And I don't want to be any more."  His shaking fingers went to his throat, and he fumbled at the buckle.

The collar slipped free of his neck, and Kevin tossed it down onto the decking between them.

Mike didn't know what to say. He stared at the collar on the floor for a moment before slowly looking back up at Kevin. "Are you alright?" he asked, unsure of what Kevin wanted from him, but sensing how unbalanced and upset he was.  
   
"You left," Kevin said, faintly accusing and very hurt. "You waited until I wasn't looking and you left. You always ask me what I want and to tell you things that upset me, and that-- you should _not_ have done that." His cheeks flushed but he didn't back down, hands on his hips now. "You promised me that you wouldn't sell me and then you give me to Mr Wentz without even _asking_ and you _sneak away_ , too cowardly to even face me, but you said that i decide my own worth, and I am worth so much more than that."  
   
Kevin was breathing heavily and Mike just stared at him. He'd had trouble resisting Kevin and getting him out of his head _before_ the kid had gotten the guts to start standing up for himself, and now, Mike had trouble catching his breath.  
   
"That wasn't it," he said quietly. "You'll be better off here, with your brothers and with Pete. You can work here and be with Joe and Nick, and soon Frankie. You can be free."  
   
Kevin tipped his chin up defiantly. "You haven't asked me what I want," he said. "You said I could do whatever I wanted."  
   
Mike closed his eyes. "What do you want, Kevin?"  
   
He was completely unprepared for Kevin to step closer and kiss him, hard and sudden and clumsy.

Mike fisted the front of Kevin's shirt.  "This is really what you want?" he asked, mouth inches from Kevin's.  "A bastard spacer running a tiny ship with a crazy crew and no guarantees about tomorrow?"

Kevin stared at him, eyes huge and dark and alive with emotion.  "You're always telling me I have worth," he whispered back.  "Has anyone else told you that you do too?"  

Mike blinked.

Kevin grinned, and tilted his mouth forward to nibble delicately at Mike's bottom lip.  "You're a good man, and a kind man, and you're a bastard, but only for good reasons.  You worry about your crew, and your ship, and a stupid slave bet by an even stupider man."  He dared another kiss.  "And you haven't run away yet, so I'm thinking you want this too."

Mike laughed.  "I want you," he admitted.  "The real you, not that robot disguise shit your training taught you."

Kevin nodded.  "You have me," he said, taking a deep breath.  "Of my own free will."

Mike couldn't resist any longer.  He grabbed Kevin's head and kissed him hard, moaning as Kevin kissed him back just as passionately, his hands clawing across Mike's back.  At their feet, Daisy began barking happily, leaping up against them.  Kevin broke the kiss first.  "Sit!" he ordered her, and she obediently went back on her haunches.

Mike groaned, and Kevin turned to smirk at him.  He took Mike's hand and led him towards Mike's quarters.

Mike banged through the hatch to his quarters, cursing as his elbow caught the door.  "I'll kiss it better," Kevin promised, never letting go of Mike.

Mike laughed, already tugging at the fastenings of Kevin's shirt.  Kevin wriggled out of it, and then went back to pulling at Mike's until the buttons gave.  Mike shook his arms free and went back to touching.  Kevin's skin was smooth and almost too warm, and Mike couldn't stop touching.  "What do you like?" he asked.

Kevin blinked.  "I...I don't know," he admitted.  "I've....my pleasure has never been a priority before."

Mike rolled Kevin over onto the bunk on his back.  "It is now," he promised.  He straddled Kevin's hips, leaning forward with his hands braced on the mattress on either side of Kevin's head as he leaned over to lick a trail of kisses down Kevin's neck.  He arched up into the touches.

A third voice coughed.  "Is this a bad time?"

Mike jerked, startled, turning to look over his shoulder. William and Pete stood in his doorway, looking disapproving, and Mike growled in frustration. "Yeah, it is," he snapped, and Kevin looked from Mike's pout ( _scowl_ , it wasn't a pout, damn it) to William's face and just cracked up laughing. Mike could practically feel all the tension and stress of the last little while bleeding out of him, and despite himself, he smiled reluctantly. "What?" he asked William, only slightly more polite.  
   
"Uh, well. The two brothers are going to stage a siege on the ship if they don't see proof of life. They're worried Kevin's lost his mind and been murdered or something."  
   
"Murdered," Mike echoed. Kevin was still giggling.  
   
"Found the collar," Pete said, amused.

Kevin waved a lazy hand.  "Didn't need it any more.  I earned something much better than that."  As he spoke, his eyes drifted up to meet Mike's, and his hands drifted up Mike's side.

Pete was definitely laughing.  "Okay, I think I can hold Joe and Nick off for a little while longer."  He poked at William.  "I think these two don't need an audience."

William had to be manhandled out of the room, and he was glaring at Mike all the way.

As soon as the hatch closed, Mike licked the spot on Kevin's throat where the collar usually lay, and Kevin tipped his head back and made a soft, pleased sound.  
   
Mike had already forgotten all about William. "You've done this before, right?" he asked distractedly, licking, kissing, and biting a sensitive spot on Kevin's neck, determined to leave a mark to replace the collar.

"Yes," Kevin said, voice a little shaky. He kept shifting restlessly underneat Mike, hands running through his hair, down to his shoulders. "But never because I wanted to."  
   
Mike lifted his head. His lips were swollen and his cheeks flushed. "You want to now?"  
   
Smiling slowly, Kevin nodded, a little shy but still so certain. He shifted again, spreading his legs a little so Mike's hips slipped between them, and said, "You can do anything you want to me and I swear, I want it. Want to be yours.'  
   
Mike, truthfully, was a bit distracted by the fact that suddenly, the slightest movement he made rubbed his cock -- which felt like it had been hard for Kevin for fucking _years_ \--  against Kevin's. "Mm, yeah," he said breathlessly. "Yes. If you want.'  
   
Kevin tugged at his hair, a bit insistently, and said, "And you'll be mine?"  
   
Mike beamed at him proudly. That wasn't slave-Kevin talking at all. "Yes,” he said. “Definitely." He kissed him, hard and messy and possessive, and then ground down against his hips and murmured in his ear, "I'm gonna make this so good for you, try to keep quiet, we don't want Bill barging in again, do we?"

Kevin laughed softly, but shook his head.  "You and me," he said quietly, arching up into Mike's body.

"You and me," Mike confirmed, working his fingers under the waist band of Kevin's pants.  Kevin mewled in quiet frustration as Mike sat up to tug the material free and lose his own pants, but Mike made it up to him as he slid back between Kevin's legs, up his chest to kiss and lick his way back to Kevin's mouth.

Kevin's fingers scrabbled across Mike's skin, and Mike lost the last lingering traces of doubt that this was Kevin pleasing him because he was a slave.  There was honest emotion on Kevin's face, and Mike had to prop himself up so he could stare in his fill of it.

Kevin's eyes fluttered open; his pupils were dark and blown already.  "Still with me," Mike asked.

"All the way," Kevin promised.  His eyes dipped for a second, then came back.  "Can I..." he asked, spreading his legs wider and wrapping them around Mike's waist.  The movement lined up their hips, and Mike groaned, deep in his chest, as their dicks rubbed smoothly against each other.

"When we have more time," Mike promised.  "I want you to fuck me like this, so I can ride you.  Would you like that?"

Kevin sighed.  "Yes," he said.  His eyes focused slightly, and he grinned.  Using the leverage of his legs around Mike's waist, he rolled them over until they were crammed up between bulkhead and bed, Kevin on top.  He sat up, the movement eliciting another groan out of Mike.  "And vice versa, right?"

"Right," Mike agreed.  He would have agreed to anything, to keep Kevin close forever.  Kevin caught up his hands, lacing their fingers together as he twisted his hips in a tight circle.

Mike swore as the pleasant hum of arousal sharpened to the precipice of orgasm in seconds.  Kevin grinned wickedly and did it again.

Mike gritted his teeth and grabbed Kevin's hips, shaking his head. "Not happening," he panted. "I'm gonna fucking get you off first, fuck." It was only fair. Or something. Kevin's pleasure was a priority. Or it should be. It was kind of hard to think with Kevin smirking at him like that and moving his hips and-- fuck.  
   
Mike flipped them, pinned Kevin to the bed, and kissed him, dirty and distracting, until Kevin stopped trying to get the upper hand and went boneless, whimpering and breathless.  
   
"Better," Mike said, breaking the kiss, pushing Kevin's legs open.  
   
"Cheating," Kevin panted, and then he jerked in surprise, unable to help a loud, startled yelp as Mike pushed his legs up and slid down quickly, taking his cock into his mouth without warning.  
   
After a long, dirty drag of lips and tongue, he lifted his head and said smugly, "Hush, Kevin, your brothers will come running," before going down again.  
   
"I've only ever-- no one's ever--" Kevin stammered, and Mike swallowed hard around him to shut him up. The words became a strangled, low moan. Mike was pretty smug about that.

After that, he set to work in earnest.  Long licks earned strangled moans, and sucking on the swollen, rosy head made Kevin whimper.  Mike let his fingers slide down the base to cup Kevin's balls, and with a gasp and a jerk, Kevin was coming into Mike's mouth.

Mike crawled up his length, feeling pretty smug until Kevin reached down, caught Mike's head, and pulled him into a dirty, open-mouthed kiss as Kevin tried to lick Mike's mouth clean.  That would be sexy enough on its own, but Kevin was making these little noises of pure _happy_ in the back of his throat, and that, more than anything, was making Mike twitch and grind into Kevin's hip.

Kevin's clever fingers skated down Mike's side, dragging over his hip before trailing, feather-light, up Mike's cock.  He was already so close that it just took a few quick slides of Kevin's fist wrapped around it before he was cursing and coming, hard, all over Kevin's stomach.

The kiss grew sloppy and eventually, they were just breathing into each other's mouths, sticky and panting as they both came down. Mike seemed to recover first, lifting his head a bit as he swallowed hard, still tasting Kevin in his mouth. Kevin's eyes were dark, pupils blown, and his cheeks prettily flushed. He was smiling a small, happy, crooked little grin and when Mike moved, he made a soft sound of protest and wrapped both hands around his forearms, holding him there.  
   
"Hey," Mike said, leaning down to suck lightly on his bottom lip. "You still with me?"  
   
Kevin just purred and stretched a bit, and Mike laughed, nuzzling his throat. "Okay," he said. "Good enough."  
   
He lay like that for a little while, head on Kevin's chest, listening to his heart beat, and finally, Kevin mumbled, "Sticky."  
   
"Uh huh," Mike agreed.  
   
"Shower," Kevin prompted, tugging at his hair. "You're the dirtiest master I've ever hard."  
   
Mike's head jerked up and he stared, not quite sure where to go with that-- he wasn't Kevin's fucking _master_ , fuck!-- but Kevin was grinning at him. Mike growled and said, "I'll show you dirty."  
   
He tackled him, pinning him to the bed again and kissing him. Kevin didn't even bother putting up a fight, just cracked up laughing wildly, almost like he'd forgotten how to laugh like that and was just remembering how.

They finally made it to the shower, both of them cramming into the tiny cubicle so there was barely any room for the water.  Mike didn't mind, reveling in the feel of water-slick skin, the way Kevin couldn't seem to stop smiling, laughing, kissing.

Getting dressed took twice as long, each unable to keep their hands off the other for very long.  Mike reeled Kevin over for another kiss, pressing into the strip of bare chest left exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.  "We need to get back out there," Kevin protested, kissing him back.

"I know," Mike panted into his mouth.  "Your brothers probably already think I've got you chained up down here."

Kevin's eyes twinkled.  "My brothers," he said happily.  "I want to introduce you."

Mike made a face.  "They think I'm your master," he said, a little more bitterness than he intended creeping into his tone.

Kevin laid a finger over Mike's mouth, and Mike let his tongue dart out to taste it, still reveling in changes in Kevin now that he had voluntarily surrendered the slave mentality.  "I'll convince them otherwise," he whispered like a promise.

It took a few more minutes and many more kisses before they were finally buttoned up enough for company.  Hand in hand, they walked down _Santi's_ quiet decks and back into the common areas.

Even Butcher looked strained when they finally found the others. Kevin's brothers looked pissed, and Mike could hear their furious questions as they stepped into the room. They seemed to be interogating Mike's crew about everything from their occupation to Kevin's life onboard the ship.  
   
"Joe, Nick," Kevin said, beaming, skipping into the room and dropping onto the couch between them. He didn't let go of Mike's hand, which was awkward, and finallly, the littlest brother shifted over so he could sit next to Kevin.  
   
"Kevin," Joe said casually. "Ready to pack your things?"

Kevin blinked.  "Are you happy?" he asked, responding to a question with a question, seemingly oblivious to their audience.

Joe and Nick didn't hesitate, they nodded.  "Pete bought our contracts in perpetuity, the Institute will never both us again," Nick explained.

Joe nodded.  "We both have our own certificates to say that.  Pete gave them to us."

"We stay because we like it here," Nick finished.  "It's our home now."

Kevin squeezed Mike's fingers.  "I was told," he said softly.  "Several times," he added, glancing up at the knot of the _Santi's_ crew and smiling.  "That I would only be put off the _Santi_ if I asked to be."  He licked his lips briefly.  "I'm not asking."

There was a surge of noise from around the room.  Kevin...held up his hand for silence, and to the others it was such an uncharacteristic gesture that they fell silent out of shock more than anything.  "I know where you are now, and you know where I am, and we can visit each other whenever we like."  He glanced over at Mike, his smile softening.  "I have a little pull with the Captain, y'see."

Mike knew he was wearing an idiot grin, but didn't really care.

Kevin reached out to his brothers with his free hand.  "After everything," he said heavily, a wealth of shared history compressed into a word.  "Don't you think we of all people deserve to find our own kind of happiness?"

"He makes you happy?" Joe asked, scowling. "How could he make you happy? And, and this ship? You're a slave to them, Kev. But you're family to us."

William lost his temper. "He's not a slave, and we're not just crew. We're family," he snapped. "And if Kevin wants to be a part of that, than he's more than welcome. You don't know Mike, but he's never considered Kevin a slave, and if he did, there's no way he'd have just fucked him, so maybe you should shut the fuck up."

"Bill," Mike said quietly.

"We can be family?" Kevin asked.

"You're our family," Joe said, voice cracking. "He doesn't get to take you."

Kevin's head whipped around as he looked between the two. He blinked for a moment, eyes closing as he composed himself. "I'm not saying either/or, Joe," he said quietly, opening his eyes to look right at Joe. There was a blurred impression that the two were having an entire conversation in that look, and Mike realized that this was how they kept their little family together in the hell of the training house.

Joe looked away first, shoulders hunched. Kevin let go over Mike to reach for him with both hands. "I'm not replacing you," he said quietly but with conviction. "Please, Joe," he added, almost begging, when Joe didn't react. "I want...please, let me have it all, just this once."

"Fuck you," Mike said suddenly, quietly. "Kevin doesn't have to beg for anything. If you can't let him make up his own mind, then you don't deserve him."

"Mike," Kevin said desperately, feeling like everything was getting out of control. "Mike, please, I just."

Mike closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Kevin's temple. "Okay," he breathed, forcing himself to calm down. "Sorry, it's fine, it's just. It's your choice and he's not letting you make it."

"But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna make the choice," Kevin replied. "I'm staying with you. It's up to Joe whether he wants me to visit or not."

Mike nodded, a little knot in his stomach unraveling as Kevin said it aloud. Kevin was staying. Kevin was staying because _he_ wanted to, even though he had what seemed to be a better offer.

Joe must have come to a similar conclusion. "I want to have you around again," he said, sounding shaky and so incredibly young. "We never knew what had happened, whether you were still alive even."

Kevin wrapped his arms around his brother, reaching his hands out to encompass Nick as well. "I'm alive," he whispered to them so quietly Mike could barely hear. "But now I have a chance to be happy. Please."

Joe nodded weakly, sniffing as he pulled away. "But you better visit us all the time, and send us letters." He glanced at Mike. "In code, if we have to."

Kevin nodded. "I promise." His hand sought out Mike's again, and Mike squeezed back, confirming everything he was saying with a touch.

"So, do we have to call him mom?" Sisky asked, shattering the heavy silence. "Or like, step mom?" He was smirking, and Butcher smacked him on the back of the head, but he was grinning too.

William looked a bit put out. “He'll need a job on the ship, of course. An actual job, not just stealing our mending when he thinks we don't notice."

"You stole their mending ?" Nick asked, scandalized. Stealing was so against the code of slavery.

"I needed something to do," Kevin said, eyes wide. He was shaking a little, but only Mike could feel it. It had been a pretty emotionally draining day.

"He can have the kitchen, I suppose," Butcher said thoughtfully. "Then I can have more time to work on converting the third holding bay into a hydroponics lab so we can grow our own organic produce onboard. Could fetch a goldmine trading that, not to mention the awesome nutritional value added to our diet."

Mike didn't particularly care, he was too busy holding Kevin's hand, making sure he was all silently supportive and shit. Kevin and his brothers had started talking, softly and earnestly and about things that Mike would never really be able to understand about the slavery experience.

When Kevin leaned in and said that he wanted to go briefly with Nick and Joe, just to do a few small things, Mike nodded. He trusted Kevin to come back.

He trusted Nick and Joe a little less, though. He wouldn't put it past them to kidnap Kevin; if their places had been reversed, it'd be what he'd be thinking. Kevin's lips pursed as Mike slipped a tiny comm unit into his hand as he hugged him at the top of the gangway, but he didn't hand it back either.

Mike turned and walked back into his ship. He had just completely overturned their little family, he owed them an explanation.

They were waiting when Mike returned to the common area, and before they could start the interrogation, Mike ran a hand through his hair and said, 'I'm sorry, but he's coming. Are you-- I'll understand if you want another assignment or to find another crew, but I won't leave him. I hope--"

William interrupted. "It's about time you made an honest boy out of him, Mike."

He collapsed in the chair and didn't know what to say.

"Seriously, Mike. He's family, like you said,” Sisky told him. "Even if you weren't fucking him, we'd want to keep him. Besides, he's so much better at cooking than Butcher!""

Butcher yelped in protest and threw a cushion at Sisky's head. Mike grinned, and William crowed gleefully. "Besides, why would we go now, when Kevin's getting all these soppy reactions out of the famously hard-nosed Mike Carden? He's totally going to domestic you, and we've got ring-side seats!"

Mike clicked his fingers, and Sisky decoriously handed over the cushion Butcher had thrown at him. Mike nodded his thanks calmly, leaned over, and belted William over the head with it.

William never stopped grinning. "Better? Okay, now that that's settled, I'm going to give Gabey a call and see how he's doing with the fourth one." He paused in the hatchway. "Y'know, since we're collecting the whole set and all." He yelped and laughed as Mike threw the cushion after him.

In the corner, Sisky and Butcher were already talking about hydroponic setups, and Mike left them to it as he walked away. After a quick detour, he was strolling down the gangway into the evening. Sitting on a transport crate a little way away from the ship, he lit up a cigarette and leaned back to stare at the stars. For a few minutes, all was quiet.

At the sound of footsteps, he sat up, rubbing out the cigarette under his boot. Pete Wentz appeared at the edge of the pool of light flooding out of the _Santi's_ open airlock. "Mr Wentz," Mike said, calling his attention over.

Pete paused, saw Mike, and came closer, smiling a little. "Hey,” he said. "I thought you and Kevin would be a bit longer."

"Yeah, I wish," Mike said, smiling a little. "He's... he wants to stay with us. I told him it was his choice to make."

Nodding thoughtfully, Pete said, "Alright. It isn't easy, you know, helping them transition from slave-mentality."

Mike shrugged. "We'l manage. I'll help him out. But if you don't mind, we'll be back this way a lot. Visiting. He doesn't want to lose his brothers."

"Dude, of course," Pete said. "And Frankie..."

"No word on that, yet, but if you don't mind--"

"There's plenty of room here for more." Pete frowned. "I kind of-- there was sort of this business proposition I had for you."

Mike eyed him warily. "Yeah?"

"You seem a decent guy, and you've got a ship, and those are two things I happen to be in need of. You hate the system and so do I, and maybe we can't bring it down, but we can help, a bit. I want to start this... kind of underground rescue operation. Set them free."

Mike stared. "Where would-- how--"

"You know, you're not the first to think of it," William said suddenly from the doorway. Mike looked at him, surprised, and William shrugged with a small smile and said, "Gabe's been smuggling freed slaves across the galaxy for years."

Not for the first time, Mike wondered what exactly was going on between Gabe and Bill. "Yeah." He glanced up at Pete. "Think he'd like some help with that?"

William beamed.

Pete laughed loudly. "Awesome. And I've always got jobs for small traders, cargo that needs a personal touch." He smiled at Pete. "I'd expect special client discount, of course."

Mike grinned. "I think we can set you up on the bulk rate."

William wandered over to sprawl next to Mike. "Just as soon as we figure out what our bulk rate is, of course." He nudged Mike. "Also, that was Gabe on the wire. He's got Frankie," he laughed. "And cheap. Little brat bit the auctioneer and was nearly withdrawn, but Gabe made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

Mike had to laugh. "Bit him? Fuck, I like this kid already. What's their ETA?"

"Two days," William said. "They figured they better high-tail it before someone caught wise. We waiting for them?" he asked, barely a question.

Mike nodded. Two more days was nothing compared to how long these kids had been waiting already.

Pete was grinning. "Well, Nick and Joe probably have Kevin back up at the main house. What's say we go join them, give them the good news, and get this party started?"

Back at the house, some of the other members of Pete's house had gathered, and Mike wondered how many were former slaves. You could tell with Kevin, by the tension in his shoulders when someone moved unexpectedly or touched him, when someone spoke loudly, but he'd relax moments later, and Mike wondered how long it would take before that was gone completely.

There were drinks and music, laughter, and plenty of optimistic talk of starting a whole new colony of freed slaves, of changing the slave trade forever.

Mike raised his glass to every toast, but secretly didn't think it would be so easy.

Then Kevin wound his way through the crowd to take his hand, smile, and curl up next to him on the couch, and Mike grinned and thought maybe it wouldn't be easy, but it would definintely be worth it.

~FIN~


End file.
